


A New Beginning

by arashi_ga_mooi_o_furuu



Series: An Eternal Alliance [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: A side subject but I want people to be warned, And he still misses Thexan but what's new, Arcann has very not platonic thoughts about Thexan, Arcann is an angst King, Arcann is starting to re-learn hummanity and it's hard, Beginning of Healing, But sex is a subject here, Grief/Mourning, Healing, I no longer regret anything, Mention of Underage Sex, Multi, No actual sex happens, Nothing actually happening, Past Child Abuse, Post Assault on Voss, Post Battle of Odessen, Severe Pinning, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Sorry Angst Emperor, Thank you Valkorion, You've been warned, incest thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arashi_ga_mooi_o_furuu/pseuds/arashi_ga_mooi_o_furuu
Summary: Extract of a report from Lana Beniko:"The hunt for Arcann continues. [...] There is Also a rather persistent rumour that he operates a pleasure barge on Hutta."





	A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I said it would happen, and it has. I'm mostly happy with this, but I'm really glad HeavenOnFire was here to read it and support me through the writting.  
> We're gonna fill that ship tag!

Arcann couldn't exactly remember his shuttle crashing. He couldn't remember much right now to be honest. It was a blur, months of events mixed up together in his head. The fight with the Outlanders, their (no _his_ , his flagship there was no 'we' anymore) flagship falling apart.

_“Gotta get out of here fast ladies!”_

_“What about Arcann?”_

_“Fuck him! Whole ship's gonna blow and I'm not staying to watch the fireworks!”_

_“We can't just leave him to die!”_

_“Actually we can, just run!”_

He'd been stuck under fallen debris, metallic arm broken and suddenly Arcann felt as though he were laying on the sands of Korriban again. But this time he was alone. This time he would die.

His Empire had fallen apart, Valkorion and his new toys walked away victorious and all the promises he'd made himself were broken.

He'd failed.

_Again._

_“I'm so sorry, Thexan.”_

He hadn't made the Empire his brother deserved and his failure was nothing more than a new betrayal. It wasn't even as if death was a pleasant prospect, a way for him to be with his twin again, because he wouldn't dare stand before Thexan again even in whatever place people went when they died. Arcann was quite sure that if his brother saw him now, he'd be disgusted and rightfully so, not to mention ashamed. He had killed Thexan, stolen away the life he should have had as his heart stupidly kept on beating when its twin had stopped. Perhaps it was only fitting that he died here, after all, his existence had lost its meaning when his other half died.

_Thexan..._

The darkness slipped from Arcann's grasp and suddenly he could feel it again. The bond. Torn and throbbing as though Thexan had only died minutes ago. It had been six long agonizing years yet their lacerated bond showed no trace of healing. Arcann wasn't sure he even wanted the pain to stop because he was terrified of what it would be like if he ever stopped feeling the bond. But the pain... It was excruciating, beyond anything he could stand on a daily basis. He hadn't been able to function, not without the anger, not without the hate, the darkness that numbed his mind and soul and made his life bearable.

But if he were to die here, he would die with his amputated bond cradled in his mind, not hidden away in the shadows of his soul.

Except he didn't die. Because she came. Senya. His mother. As she dragged him from beneath the fallen debris, he wondered if this was his afterlife, where the people he had loved came back to him. However the smell of smoke and the heat of the fire were too real to be a fantasy.

“I wanted to save you....”

He heard her say and could not help but wonder.

_Why?_

_Why would you?_

They had been fighting on opposite sides, why would she want to save him? She knew he had killed  Thexan, Vaylin told her, her son. She should be gutting him with her lightsaber, not helping him. He had murdered the best of her twins, leaving her with a damaged husk too pathetic to even keep his Empire.

Yet her hands were gentle, caring, as she laid him in sitting position, whispering words of love to him.

_Why?_

Vaylin came then. Arcann knew she was close before she spoke, her Force aura permeating the air and the sense of _hunger_ that came with it. She was here to kill. He could hear both her and their mother talking despite the excruciating pain of the bond though he could not catch every word.

 _“_ You left us. You left me.”

For a second, the hunger subsided and Arcann heard the child in his sister's voice. However the child was nothing but an echo of a larger being long since devoured by the hunger. It could no longer feed on her, thus it went for others.

Arcann did not see her launch herself at their mother but he felt it and immediately pushed her back.

“I'm here now.”

The words were so simple but they had felt like fresh air in his lungs. Senya was here now. She came. He couldn't let Vaylin take that away.

She screamed. Of course she did, she was never one to take 'no' for an answer but he didn't think it would affect him so much.

“Why?!”

Because she's here. Because she came. She's all we have left. He didn't say a word though, his body too weak, his mind too pained.

“WHY?!”

She was raging, her fury boiling fuelled by what she perceived as a betrayal. Because Arcann had always been on her side, always said yes to everything and anything because he just didn't like refusing her something. But today he had.

Senya was talking to her, asking her to come with them. 'Please just come', he thought to himself, 'Please, let's just go rest'. He was feeling so exhausted, like all the fight he had had left was replaced by the all encompassing pain of the bond.

Vaylin seemed to hesitate for a second though he could feel the dark hunger hadn't left her, merged into her as it was. But they did not get to know her answer, positive or negative as the rest of the ship started to collapse, creating a barricade between them.

His mother was helping him now, supporting his weight he couldn't bear on his own. He weakly gave her the directions to his (their) shuttle, wondering if they would even make it as his (their) flagship collapsed around them. He hoped Senya got away at least. He didn't want her to die trying to save him. What a sad way to die it would be. He also hoped Vaylin was safe, even though she probably hated his guts right now. He couldn't blame her as he didn't hold a great love for himself either.

Senya settled him in a sitting position once more, and that's when he realised they did reach his (their) shuttle. His mother took control and flew it out of the docking bay just as the whole thing came apart. The tremor shook the entire shuttle.

For a moment, Arcann thought they made it out, as impossible as it might seem. Then he heard the voice of one of the Outlanders. He couldn't tell which one, but Senya was talking to them, saying she wanted to save him. She put her hand on his. He looked up, and all of a sudden he was a child again; _he had scraped his knees bloody, Thexan was holding him, worried, repeating he shouldn't have tried to climb and “Arcann you know I hate it when you hurt yourself”, and Senya was there, disinfecting his wounds and bandaging them, “Won't you heal them with the Force, mother?” Thexan had asked her, confused, “No,” she'd said taping Arcann's nose, “I'll let them heal naturally and hope they serve as a lesson young man”, Thexan had tried to argue with her but she wouldn't budge (she never knew that later that day, Thexan had healed a bit of his wounds with the Force and that he did so everyday, till it was all gone. Or perhaps she did know and that's why she shook her head with a smile whenever she looked at them then)_.

Once again she was here, she'd always been whenever they were hurt, and here she was again. Except this time, it was not bloody knees. Arcann was never good at heeding lessons.

His (their) shuttle wasn't armed, he knew the Outlanders would likely shoot them down, him for obvious reasons and his mother for protecting him. But he didn't want Senya to die, yet she would because she chose his side. It seemed anyone who cared for him was signing their death warrant.

Arcann waited for the shots, for the shuttle to tremble. But nothing came.

 _“Fine,”_ one of the voice said, though he still couldn't give it a name. Not that he knew any of them enough to identify them by voices alone, _“We'll do this your way Senya.”_

_“I can't fucking believe it!”_

_“They are defenceless and leaving, it'd be wrong to attack them!”_

_“See, that's exactly why the Jedi will go extinct someday.”_

Arcann didn't hear more after that. It made no sense. Why were they letting them go? Why were they letting _him_ go? Because of Senya? Did they trust her enough to leave his fate in her hands? Or perhaps they didn't see him as that much of threat anymore. Considering the state he was in, he wouldn't blame them.

Still, it made no sense. You don't spare you enemy when he's down, you finish him.

He knew there was a small part of him that wished they would finish him. The part that was tired of fighting, the part that just wanted everything to simply stop, and find some calm. Some peace.

But there was another part, a bigger part, one that wanted to live despite it all and did not let him give up. He did not hope for happiness, such thing would be impossible to achieve without Thexan, but there was still this desire for accomplishment, to actually make something of his life. Even if he tried to die, he wasn't sure the remains of the bond would let him. He cloaked the stump in dark Force energy, keeping it locked away, but Arcann found that if he flirted with the idea of death too much, the amputated bond would surge past whatever defences he built, dragging him back to the present with a surge of pain. Almost as if to say 'This life is your punishment, you don't get to run from it'. It was fitting, being forced to live the rest of his days without Thexan, knowing he was the one who took his light from the galaxy. It wasn't a sentence he wanted to run from.

But whatever the reason was, the Outlanders let both him and his mother run. His mother wouldn't die because of him, not yet anyway. And for the first time in years, Arcann didn't feel like he had to stand all on his own.

A relief that was short-lived, for soon enough the pain from the cut bond was back. He tried to focus like he did six years ago, focus on his rage and hate so the pain would fade in the background.

“ Arcann, no. ” Senya said softly, taking his face in her hand, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

They had the same colour as Thexan.

All strength left him, whatever wrath he had gathered to rebuild his shield went up in smoke. He had built a wall of anger and hate between himself and his pain before, and he still hadn't been strong enough. He still managed to fail Thexan _twice_ , in life and in death.

He couldn't fail Senya too, he wouldn't. And if she wanted him to bear the pain, then he would.

That's when Arcann lost notion of the time that passed, the suffering not allowing him a great awareness. He knew Senya was always here, a Force presence calm and soothing (just like in the childhood he could barely remember), keeping him fed and living. Arcann could feel her in his mind, trying to help him, to push back the darkness, the excruciating pain, but it was too strong for even her to control. Once she tried, carefully, to cover the stump of a bond he had left. It wasn't Valkorion's invasive push through that felt like a violation of his mind, nor was it Vaylin's curious, clumsy pokes, it was his mother, who had always best understood the link between him and Thexan, knew to leave it alone, only ever gliding around it. But even her touch was rejected, his body seizing violently at the brush of her mind against the amputated bond.

 _Wrongwrongwrong_ , chanted his brain.

There were healers who knew how to handle bonds in such ways they would not interfere with it, but his mother was a Knight of Zakuul, not a healer. She did not touch the bond again after that. The memories returned slowly, nothing to hinder them anymore, nothing to take back control. They were laced with the horrors of his own imagination. Thexan's face staring at him, that shocked expression frozen on his face, morphing to pain and sadness. In the fevered dreams, Thexan did not lay in his arms but stood before him, the slash on his abdomen clearly visible as well as the blistering skin under it. The smell of burnt flesh made him want to gag. Not his own flesh, not like Korriban, no, this was Thexan's flesh and he was the one who burnt it.

“I trusted you.” Thexan's voice was cold, emotionless. Thexan had never been like him, not a prey to his own feelings, but Arcann had seen him angry before and it was a terrible sight: his gaze would turn icy, his voice sharp, words cutting as deep as a blade, he was as beautiful and terrifying as any storm. But never, in all his life, had Thexan's anger or disappointment been directed at him, not even when it could have been justified. Yet he could see it now, clear as day, in the dream ghost that stood before him.

“I trusted to you and you killed me.” NotThexan continued looking at him as though he were some vile thing staining the floor. Anyone who took Thexan's light from the galaxy was vile indeed.

And he had been the one to do it.

Arcann bowed his head, his brother the only one he could ever bow to willingly. He had so much to say, so much to tell but it was all stuck in his throat threatening to choke him.

“I'm so sorry....” Was all that came out.

“'Sorry' doesn't make me any less dead.” NotThexan shot back.

Arcann flinched; seeing it again, the rage, the bloodlust, flashes of yellow and the sudden burning pain in his abdomen that wasn't his, Thexan's voice still shouting in his mind ' _Arcann, come back to me!_ '.

NotThexan sneered.

“Yes, go and cower, that's what you do best isn't it? Fuck everything up then point fingers at everyone else because you can't take the blame for your own mistakes.”

Arcann couldn't bear it, the disgust, the hatred he heard in Thexan's (NotThexan) voice. Yet he forced himself to stay, to listen, because his nightmares were the only place where Thexan still lived and breathed.

“Father was right,” NotThexan said with his cold, emotionless tone, “You've always been the extra, the spare. You're pathetic.”

The words clashed with others he remembered, kinder words that did not seem to reach him now.

( _“Ignore Father Arcann, you're strong, I won't let you say or think the opposite.”_ )

( _“I don't care you were the unexpected one, you're just as important as my heart. I may be heir but you're my equal, anyone who disagree will answer to me.”_ )

( _“I love you Arcann, you're the best thing that could have happened to me.”_ )

But those were words of before, before Arcann's failure, before his betrayal. They were starting to fade, become part of a dream instead of a memory. A part of Arcann knew he was trapped in a nightmare, not quite sleeping, but crushed by the pain of the bond, the emptiness that sucked him in. Without any darkness to shield him (he couldn't let darkness take over again, Senya had asked him to fight, so he would, he owed her that) the silence of the bond was driving him mad, his mind desperately searching for a heartbeat to match his. Always he returned to the bond, what remained of it, and always he would recoil at the raw pain that overtook him whenever he tried to touch it as he did so many times before. Sometimes he would ignore the pain like he did six years ago, take hold of the bond and call for his other half. His cries always echoed back to him, a cruel joke that still managed to break his heart each time it happened. After years, the pain should have diminished, yet it was still bleeding. His catatonic state had returned he knew, he was aware of Senya's presence from time to time, knew she kept him alive, but she was muted, just as Vaylin had been then. A far away voice with less substance than his hallucinations. But six years ago, the memories of his twin were still fresh, the pain new. Now it had festered with the doubt, the hatred that tainted his very memory, darkness everywhere and no room to breath. The darkness that used to be his ally was turning against him now that he resisted it.

The ghost of Thexan had been a novelty as well. He had Thexan in his nightmares before, picked from his memory of that fateful day, forever locked in shock, sadness and pain (and _love_ , the love he sent across the bond even as he died, because Thexan was the single most beautiful thing to exist in this galaxy, yet Arcann _destroyed_ him) but this was another Thexan. Not simply pulled from his memories, but animated, reminding him of what he truly deserved: Thexan's contempt. Nothing more.

However, sometimes, Arcann would wake, be aware of the world around him again and it felt like coming for air after a prolonged stay underwater. His head was hurting during those times, and knew he must have been feverish because he felt as though he were on fire. Senya was always by his side, her hands ice cold against his face, speaking quiet words he could barely understand or hear. What Arcann did remember clearly, was collapsing against her during one of those time, sobs racking his whole body, crying, begging like a child.

“Thexan, Thexan, please give me Thexan, please, I need him, please!”

She held him tightly against her then, whispering softly.

“I can't, my darling, I can't, he's gone....”

“Thexan, Thexan,” he'd repeated in-between sobs, “ Thexan, Thexan, please...”

He'd cried out into the bond as well, his call meeting nothingness as the amputated bond twisted in pain.

Arcann feared Thexan's ghost, yet he craved him at the same time, this illusion that somehow, somewhere, his twin still lived.

(even if NotThexan was nothing like Thexan)

Most of the time he couldn't remember these encounters clearly, but there was one that remained, always, and haunted him. Arcann was so weak then, couldn't tell up from down, real from illusion. NotThexan's voice had been haunting him for a while, but he was so worn, so tired, he didn't have it in himself to react anymore. All things NotThexan said, taunted him with, all those things he knew already, had heard before, but there was one he thought he had buried deep enough it would never come to light again. He had been wrong.

He was always wrong.

“What's truly hilarious,” NotThexan said, “is that the Outlanders and our mother believe that the vilest thing you've ever done was to order those mass slaughters. That, and murdering me of course.”

NotThexan's voice was so close, Arcann could almost feel the ghost of his lips moving against his ear.

“But we both know it's not.”

Arcann curled on himself, wondering where Senya was, fearing she'd one day hear NotThexan's words as well and realise the mistake she had made.

“No, you have defiled the very thought of me long before you killed me.” His voice was so sweet but so cold at the same time, so very similar, yet so different, “You know what I'm talking about, don't you?”

Had he possessed the strength, Arcann would have jumped out of his skin when he felt the sensation of a hand gliding across his chest. This was the first time his hallucinations ever touched him.

“What? Don't you crave my touch anymore?” The laugh NotThexan let out made his blood run cold, “Why not? After all, you begged for it in your fantasies.”

No. No, he had put that behind him, it was buried, gone. It couldn't come back, not now, not after all this. No, this was a disease he had gotten rid of, never again to be unearthed. Never again.

“Oh but it's still there,” NotThexan said, answering his thoughts, letting his hand glide lower, “It never left. You basked in the illusion because it satisfied you. But you're too sick, it's a part of you, it can't leave.”

Arcann shook his head frantically, as if it would chase away the hallucination. He might as well have been running from his own shadow.

“Tell me, brother dear, how many times did you touch yourself thinking of me? Was I as depraved as you in your imagination, or did you get a kick out of the idea of raping me?”

Arcann tried to cover his ears, quickly reminded he possessed only one hand to do so. He thought he whimpered but he couldn't be sure. His weakness had disgusted him at first, but he had no energy left for that now. Not when NotThexan was whispering in his very mind.

“Would you have been able to control yourself, I wonder?” His appearance had not changed since the first day he came to him, looking just as he had the last time he held him, “Or perhaps I would have found out how deranged you are. Perhaps I already knew, why else would I suddenly start doubting you?”

'No, no, no,' Arcann's mind kept chanting. He could still remember their last day so clearly, Thexan's hesitation across the bond.

_No, you've just been killing more, there's a difference._

He had been so angry then (and scared, so scared, because if Thexan wasn't on his side anymore, who would be?) he just wanted to lash out, vent all his pent up rage against the only one who could dissipate it with a touch. But he had felt so betrayed that Thexan, who always believed in him, was now doubting him. It woke a terrible fear inside of him, but he refused to be afraid, fear was a weakness. So he got angry, because it was easier, better. His anger made him stronger, it would show Thexan he had no reason to mistrust him.

“No reason?” NotThexan said with a smile, “I had every reason to. You had just managed to lose your arm and nearly your life to some explosion. Without me, you would have bled out on Korriban.”

Arcann knew that, remembered it everyday. Thexan had saved him, risked his own life in the process and in return, Arcann murdered him. He couldn't recall how many times the thought made him throw up.

“I should have left you there, but I took pity,” NotThexan continued, “A mistake on my part, not yours. For once. You were not truly saved anyway, you came back lesser and the scars...” He made a tssk sound, “I never had a chance to see them, not that I mind truly, from the glimpse I got they were hideous.”

Arcann could remember his rage turning to panic as he took off his clothes and realised that Thexan hadn't seen the extent of the damage yet, not the full extent. He had needed a distraction, a second to think of a way to not show this to Thexan, ever. But then Thexan had reached out for him, body and mind and Arcann was terrified. He was so vulnerable, so weak right now, Thexan could see it in his mind, or perhaps he would feel it his flesh. Those thoughts, those desires that haunted him. He had pushed him away, refusing to have them touch, because Thexan could never ever find out about this, it would be the end of everything.

“Oh really?” NotThexan's voice returned, “Didn't you imagine such scenarios in your head before? Me, coming to you when you were half dressed, my hands reaching out for your face, your chest. Your cock.”

Arcann flinched, shame flooding him. He had destroyed this, he was so sure he had destroyed this. Promised it to himself the night he came breathing out his twin's name with the words 'love' and 'I' and 'you' mixed with it. He had let it go too far, he had to reduce to dust whatever this was before Thexan ever saw it was there.

In that moment, when Thexan's hand had touched his shoulder, when his mind had sought his out through the bond, he couldn't stand it. Anger and panic had taken command and he did what he never had before: threw Thexan out of his personal space, and out of his mind, building the strongest walls he could in their bond. He could never let Thexan see his weakness or the horror that hid inside of him, not when he was already doubting him, drifting away. He couldn't lose Thexan. He could lose everything but not him.

“It's funny don't you think,” NotThexan's voice once more cut right through his thoughts, “That you managed to lose everything _and_ me. Quite a feat, really.”

Yes, it truly was, it seemed failing was a talent of his.

NotThexan's presence was suddenly closer, his face so close to Arcann's, he could have sworn he felt his breath on his lips.

That was it. He was going mad.

“Did you imagine it often after you murdered me? My kiss? My lips on yours? Tell me, did it taste like the ashes I was turned into after my death?”

Again he remembered that terrifying second where he realised he hadn't been lashing out at the person he meant to. How he had thrown away every foolish barrier, not caring what Thexan could possibly find in his mind as long as he lived. He had tried to hold on to Thexan's life-Force, keep him away from death like Thexan had done for him. But Thexan's light, Thexan's soul had been ripped away, pulled from his mind even as he desperately tried to hold on to it. Then nothing but darkness.

“You could have saved me, but you didn't. Your mind was far too occupied with the thought of fucking me rather than keeping me alive.” NotThexan let out a soft laugh, his mouth now right above his ear, “Or perhaps it was the thought of _me_ fucking _you_. Do tell, which made you harder?”

Arcann tried to run, to escape this ghost but there was nothing but void around here, nowhere to run from that familiar voice that sounded so wrong. He just wanted a single moment of peace, without the shame, or the guilt, or the fear or the overwhelming anger. He wanted to fall in a dreamless sleep and never wake up, he wanted... he wanted... he wanted...

Thexan.

He just wanted Thexan. Living, breathing Thexan, with his laugh, and his smile and his quiet words. Thexan could hate him, as long as he existed in this galaxy, it was enough.

But Thexan was dead.

And Arcann was still here.

Why was he still here? Why hadn't he followed the heartbeat tied to his own?

If he could only find that dreamless void to drown in until nothing could reach him. NotThexan wouldn't leave and Arcann felt tempted to just give in, stop fighting and just let himself drift and fade.

But suddenly, NotThexan's voice vanished, his body blurring on the edges as Arcann's vision was covered in spots.

He could hear another voice. A kinder one, a softer one. Senya. She was calling him, as if from far away, but what was stranger was the feeling that she wasn't alone. He could sense others on the edge of his mind, almost serving like an escort to his mother, slowly pushing back the curtains of darkness to let her pass. The touch was unfamiliar but not invasive, washing over him like water over a rock, never getting inside.

Arcann couldn't make out Senya's words but he knew his mother was calling him to her, making NotThexan vanish back to some dark corner of his mind. He let her grasp him and gently stir him back from this self created void. His own hallucination melted around him as he slowly became aware of the world surrounding him again. The foreign presence was still here, keeping their path free of darkness though he could feel it return each time to the places they left.

“His mind has returned for now,” Arcann had heard a quiet, unknown voice said, “But he's slipping into the Bond coma. If he goes too far we won't be able to reach him again.”

“Surely there's something you can do?” This was his mother's voice, he could pick it out in a crowd, “He managed all this time, perhaps you can heal his mind now.”

“The darkness shielded him, kept him from being swallowed by the Bond coma. Crude, but effective, it fuelled him and protected him at the same time, though he was dependent of it. He is rejecting the darkness for now, and will either fall to the coma or return to the darkness to remain conscious.” Another unknown voice said.

Arcann wasn't sure he understood what was being said. These people seemed to know a lot on bonds whereas no one in Zakuul had ever known an awful lot, not to mention Valkorion had never deemed useful for either of his sons to learn much about it.

“No,” Senya said, “He can't go back to before, he wasn't himself”

The second voice was still calm, unwavering.

“Darkness will purge fear and pain by turning it to rage, such is the price to pay. To heal, one must accept the pain, but there are some that are too broken to get through the suffering, too broken to heal, their only respite being to pass into the Force. To see if he can heal, we must assert the extent of the damage. But most importantly, he needs the desire to heal.”

Arcann wasn't sure what his mother answered to that but he could hear the hurt in her voice, feel the worry coming from her in waves. He found himself wishing he could reassure her, tell her it was alright, perhaps it would be better if he died, found Thexan again. All that he hoped for was that she never found out about the thoughts he had of his twin. Yes, perhaps dying was the right choice for him.

Arcann suddenly felt hands on his face, not Senya's hands, but unfamiliar hands, smooth as solidified resin and cool to the touch. Fingers settled on his temple and he felt once again a delicate foreign push in his mind, shimmering through the darkness. Despite the obvious lack of threat, Arcann felt himself tense all the same, the presence stopping it's course to appease him, wrapping his consciousness in a thin cloak of light that seemed to relax him in seconds, making him sleepy. The presence never spoke to him, remaining unobtrusive, and strangely safe. He felt when it reached his amputated bond, and he was horrified for a second, that the  presence would touch, violate this part of himself that only belonged to him and Thexan. He was ready to forcibly throw it out, no matter how weak he was, but the presence never intruded. It moved around, never poking, never probing, yet it seemed to examine his bond all the same. It felt... clean, the presence skilfully manoeuvred as though it were used to handle bonds without ever violating them.

Arcann felt the presence slow retreat, leaving his mind free of any traces it might have left behind, the thin cloak of light that had distracted him fading as well, leaving him a bit calmer.

“This is not a broken bond.” The quiet voice said.

“What do you mean?” Senya asked her, confused, “He lost... he lost Thexan, his brother, the one he had a bond with.”

The name was enough to bring a lump in Arcann's throat, as NotThexan's words replayed in his mind.

“That may be true,” the quiet voice answered, “But death did not do this. Death is clean and precise. This mangled bond is the work of a butcher.”

“Is there... is there anything I could do, please, anything at all?” Senya sounded so broken, Arcann wished he could change that, but as it was, he couldn't even open his eyes. He had forced himself for so long to resent her, sometimes it was easy, because she did leave them, because she fought both him and Vaylin. Other times he remembered songs, laughter, meals where he spent his time sneaking Vaylin extra sweets while avoiding Senya's watchful gaze. It rarely worked and the both of them ended with added lessons, but his sister looked pleased with chocolate spots around her mouth and sugar sticking to her fingers.

The quiet voice pulled him back from his thoughts.

“You cannot mend what's meant to be One with only a half.”

It was then that the calm voice that spoke again.

“The bond cannot be healed, but the the darkness that pollute your child may be cleansed.”

“Truly?” Senya asked with hope in her voice.

“It would take much time but it can be done. But most  importantly, we would need to protect the rest of him from his wounded bond, he cannot live with the full weight of it, no one could. He would not be healed, but he would not be dependant of his rage anymore.”

“What you say is madness,” the quiet voice interrupted, “To force a bonded to live without his half is heresy.”

“The boy is not Voss, he is not bound by our laws, and it wasn't death that tore the bond. The mother asked us to save her son, and we can.”

“What you propose is cruel. But I will support you, only because what was done to this bond was much crueller. It deserves, if not a chance to heal, at least a chance to be properly cut off.”

“Good. We will gather the healers. This will be long and difficult.”

Arcann could hear footsteps echoing away after that, and felt Senya's presence getting closer to him. She took hold of his hand.

“Soon, my dear one, soon, you'll get better, I promise. I won't leave again.”

Her words should not feel as reassuring as they did to the grown man he was, but they were. Arcann let his mind drift off in as state of half sleep. NotThexan did not return that day.

But things had to go wrong at some point.

He had no clear memory of what happened, could only recall tiny lights, eating away at the darkness, slowly but surely making a dent in the dark energy that stuck to him like a second skin. However he felt the process accelerate, felt the sense of danger. Felt Senya's worry, he didn't know what was happening but it was bad. The lights got bigger, quicker, though their work remained precise and clinical, as they scraped off the darkness piece by piece. But it still wasn't fast enough.

“There is not enough time.”

Arcann had no idea why he was aware of this sentence in particular when all else was a blur. The lights worked tirelessly but they just weren't enough.

Suddenly the lights weren't alone anymore, they became fuelled with a new energy that scorched the darkness away in it's wake. There was a new presence, a familiar presence, and a voice, singing softly.

_The burning star of Izax bathes the sea in light_

_Mother?_

Arcann knew that song, it was one of the many she used to sing for them. What he didn't understand was why he was hearing it now, as he felt several other minds, unknown minds that still scrubbed off his corrupted hate.

_Feel the peaceful warmth touch the darkest night_

It hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt, the one you felt when taking off a bandage, or rubbing at your skin till it was red, feeling finally clean. Senya's presence felt brighter than ever, as the small lights finally approached his bond, his first reflex was to push them away, far from this part of himself he would protect with everything he had. But just like last time, they didn't touch his crippled bond, they swam around it, threads of light trailing behind them, threads that wove themselves together one by one. Slowly, it closed around the bond, forming an impenetrable smooth dome.

_Calm your angry heart beneath the waves of Fate_

Arcann was not sure of what had happened, what was still happening, all he knew, was that the next breath he took felt like he hadn't breathed in forever. The lights of the healers' minds retreated as though they were never there; around him, Senya's presence faded. Fast. Too fast.

_Feel the tears of Scyva wash away your hate_

His mother wasn't just leaving his mind, she was weakening.

'Mother?!' he called out, not caring that he probably sounded like a terrified child, even in his own mind. She couldn't leave, she wouldn't leave, no, he had to help, do something!

Arcann opened his eyes, one obstructed as always by his mask, and shot up in a sitting position. He was breathing heavily, as though he just ran a long-distance race, yet he was feeling light-headed, as if he had inhaled too much oxygen.

“The son awakes with the gift of the mother.” A calm voice said, a voice he remembered from his half delirious moments.

That's when Arcann noticed, the people -alien people, because they certainly did not look human- sat around him in a circle. They did not look at him and kept their head bowed. Distantly he was aware of the muffled sound of fighting, but it was not what caught his attention. No, it was his mother lying limply against the bed, a man with blue skin by her side. Arcann couldn't feel a single thing from her, not her aura or her Force presence, _nothing_.

_The gift of the mother._

No. No, that couldn't be it, she couldn't... not like that, not for _him_. Rising from the bed was a battle of it's own, but he managed, finally kneeling by her side as well. He reached out, his fingers barely brushing her before pulling back. She was ice-cold. Arcann's head was spinning, but he desperately tried to get a feel of her presence, of something, anything, to assure himself she was still there. He found nothing.

“You can't die,” he heard his voice break but couldn't bring himself to care, “You can't, you just came back....”

He had ruined it. Somehow, even while being out of it most of the time he had managed to ruin the one good thing that returned to him. He destroyed every single thing he touched.

Thexan first.

Now his mother.

“The mother has not died,” the calm voice cut in, and Arcann raised his head to see the blue skinned alien still standing by his mother's side, “But her body no longer holds her mind.”

He had no idea what it was supposed to mean, his head hurt, his entire body hurt actually and Senya... was gone. Before he would have been ashamed to break down in front of complete strangers, he still was, but he had no energy to stop himself if he tried.

It was the sounds of battle closing in that brought him back to the moment. He turned his head to the entrance, seeing the bodies of several Knights and even more skytroopers. How many people had his mother fought for him? Too many.

“They will be here soon.”

One of the pink-red skinned woman said, and he turned to her, confused.

“The Alliance.” She said simply, answering his unvoiced question.

The Alliance. They were coming. To kill him, or capture him, neither sounded appealing. Yet the idea crossed his mind for a second. To just wait for them to come and take him. Thexan was dead, that alone was enough to make him wish to crawl somewhere and die, but Senya had come, she came back to him, to them, Arcann and Vaylin, and that was a reason to hold on even as his dream of an Empire turned to dust.

Arcann could have given up, but Senya had died for him. What she did exactly, he didn't know, but he couldn't let the Outlanders ruin her gift. If he died now, her life was wasted. He failed his twin, he failed his sister, the best he could do now was to try to not fail his mother.

Arcann got to his feet with difficulty, wary of those around him, but none made any move to stop him. He started to stumble forward, letting fuzzy pieces of memory and the Force guide him back to his (their) shuttle. He should have known he wouldn't be fast enough. He felt them before he heard them -their presence was mixed with Valkorion's, he would know it anywhere- he quickened his limping pace as much as he could. He had to get out before they caught him.

Arcann surprised himself by reaching the shuttle in time. He climbed without any grace; with only one arm and his body drained, there was little else he could do.

But they had found him.

“Arcann!”

He froze for a second when he heard the voice -which one was it again? The one with the white hair and the horns perhaps?- He turned to face them, trying to stand as straight as he could. It was indeed the one he thought that had called out to him -Zabrak, that was the name- one of these cursed Outlanders, so called 'Commander' Quruka. She was the one he impaled on his lightsaber on Asylum, which probably explained why she was one of the few whose name he recalled. She looked out of breath, the blond Sith-woman following her closely. The other Zabrak was with them, the orange one. He'd never bothered to learn her name, she was after all nothing but a smuggler turned privateer and he had completely overlooked her. He shouldn't have, shouldn't have underestimated any of them, because they had the power of Valkorion to back them up. It was too late for that now, but he would not give up. Not after what his mother did for him. He would live, whatever that meant.

“Arcann, wait!”

Quruka again. She was persistent, he needed to leave now.

“Hey, dickhead!” The other Zabrak called out, “She's still alive! Senya's still alive!”

Arcann paused. It couldn't be. He had felt nothing from his mother, she was gone. Yet the blue-skinned man had said she wasn't dead.

“She needs you,” Quruka added, “Please, we're not your enemies!”

Perhaps... perhaps it was true? Could it be true? Could his mother not be dead? He wanted to believe it. They had repeated it all this time -well most of them anyway- 'We're not your enemies', but they were his enemies. They housed Valkorion's soul, they were the Outlanders, the invaders, they weren't allies, they couldn't be allies.

 _“Don't you understand?”_ The one that looked like a cat had once said, _“We want to destroy Valkorion, just as much as you. Why are you standing in our way?”_

They could not be anything other than enemies. Could they? That's what he always knew, what he'd always been taught, he couldn't trust anyone, he was alone.

_When darkness finds you, you will face it alone._

Valkorion's lessons were engraved in his mind, he knew them by heart still. But Valkorion was wrong. He hadn't been alone. All his life, he had Thexan, trusted him (and loved him) with everything he had. Until he ripped him away from his life, he was the single person he loved above all else. He still was. Only when Thexan was gone had Arcann truly been alone. Yet even that wasn't true, because Vaylin was here, as unstable as her presence was, she was the reason he had left his vegetative state to begin with. And then Senya, his mother, was there, she'd always been, all he had to do was reach out. Arcann had never truly been alone. Valkorion was wrong. He didn't have to be alone now either.

Maybe it was true. Maybe they could be allies. It was strange, how clearer his mind felt, as though he could stop for a second and just breath. Think. Arcann had no idea what they would do with him, but if his mother truly lived, he had to be by her side. He took a step forward, hesitant, unsure, because what if this was all a lie? He tried to kill them several times, what if making him believe Senya lived was part of a cruel revenge? He was almost ready to take a chance, and he saw something like hope in the Commander's amber eyes at his hesitant move forth.

Then _he_ was there.

His aura just as strong as when he lived, making shivers run down his spine, and he felt like a terrified child during bond training once more.

Valkorion. His ghost -but was it a ghost really? The man still held as much power as when he lived- right behind the Outlanders, tied to them, _bound_ to them, always _there_ , always watching-

“You are not alone.” He hissed out, turning away.

Arcann didn't wait to see their reactions or see anything more from them, he only made sure the shuttle took off. He had no idea where he was headed, did not care in the least, and punched in random coordinates in the navi-computer, before collapsing from exhaustion. Arcann let his body slide to the floor, wondering where he found the energy to run earlier. It wasn't long before he closed his eyes, and fell into the first dreamless slumber he had in a long while.

Which is probably why he had no real recollection of the crash. He recalled the shuttle shaking badly, waking him up, and before his brain could truly process what was happening, he was thrown against the wall, as the shuttle collided with solid ground. Luckily, the shields were still strong enough that the whole thing didn't go up in flames. Arcann was still so weak, he had to half walk, half crawl out of the wreckage. Wherever he was, it smelled terrible.

That was when his brain had decided to try catch up on all it had missed and make sense of the last couple months. Or weeks? He couldn't tell. He tried to lean on the closest wall, but even then he could not stand up straight. His body felt off without the familiar weight of his prosthetic, and he found himself almost falling over several times. Arcann couldn't tell how much time passed, as his mind was busy piecing together all that had happened, but he eventually started to hear voices. Voices that were coming closer.

“You sure it's there?” A woman.

“Yeah, I saw it fall, swear on my life!” A man.

“Ugh, still, we shouldn't be there, someone could jump us...”

The man laughed.

“Oh, lovely, who's gonna jump a nine foot tall Weequay with a blaster?”

“Where did you even get it? We're not allowed weapons.”

“Guard from the bar, I sucked him off for free, he owed me.”

Arcann could hear the voices coming closer, he desperately tried to crawl behind a pile of garbage, hide himself as much as he could, but his limbs just wouldn't answer.

“Damn,” the woman said, “That's one nice shuttle! Not even exploded!”

Arcann could see them now, the both of them aliens, a Weequay; as the man described himself; and a Nautolan if he wasn't mistaken. There were so many different species he still got some of them wrong and his brain wasn't at peak efficiency right now.

The weequay let out a whistle.

“Let's see what's there before the bog people swarm it like flies!”

Arcann didn't  know who were the bog people, nor did he care, all he wanted for these people to be on their way without noticing him. He tried to hide a bit more behind the pile of garbage but he slipped and knocked the whole thing over, scraps of metal colliding together in an insufferable cacophony. The Force truly wasn't on his side lately.

Arcann heard shouts, exclamations of surprise and “Holly shit, that's a guy!”, heard, more than saw the two people rushing to him. His head was spinning.

“Hey man,” the Nautolan said, “Hey, you hurt?”

“I'm fine!” He croaked out, trying to stand.

The Weequay snorted.

“Yeah, as fine as me when I'm drunk while high on glitterstim!”

Arcann wanted to answer, lash out, but when he turned to face them, his vision blurred as a wave of nausea overtook him. He heard them talk to him, ask him things, but he could no longer understand.

Then all went black.

 

**

 

 _Arcann hated bond training with passion. Dreaded it too, but it was weak to think that way. The first time had been torture, a true nightmare he didn't care to replicate. Valkorion disagreed. Arcann was used to split lips, bloody noses, bruises covering him like body paint and every part of him hurting. But the pain of bond training was not something he got used to. Neither of them did. Arcann was seventeen when it happened, when he got the first sign of how wrong his feelings for Thexan truly were. If only he had recognized this warning for what it was, he may have been able to stop it. But all that mattered then was to get recognition from Valkorion. Bond training may have proven to be useless in the long run, but the pain of it remained ever the same. And he was always there, their Father, examining their bond,_ touching _it. Arcann had learned to endure the pain without so much as a shout, because if he did cry out Valkorion would only make it worse. Most importantly, he was Thexan's breaking point. His twin could weather anything their Father put them through, but should Arcann be in more pain than he could bear -more pain than he could hide- Thexan never let it stand. Any Knight that ever laid a hand on him on the training fields knew that. Arcann remembered being twelve, head still ringing from a blow with sand and blood in his mouth, the fury -Thexan's fury- still coursing through him as though it were his own. His anger was always calm, controlled, much unlike his own, but it was merciless. Arcann had raised his head to see Thexan's hand extended to him, knocked out Knights surrounding them. And of course they had tried the opposite technique after that, going for Thexan first. A bad move on their part. Arcann didn't have half as much restraint as his twin. One of the Knights almost died._

_But when it came to bond training, there was no tactic, no finesse, it was just about forcing them to be apart for as long as possible. Each time it felt like tearing his organs out his body, except there was no tearing Thexan out of his mind, not that he'd let them if they could. This time though, Arcann felt particularly sick, not only because of the unnatural stretch forced on them but because of Valkorion. The man was proving much more invasive than other times, trying to slither his way deeper, in places where he didn't belong. At first he stayed on the bond itself, but he started to err on Arcann's side, pushing again and again. He suffered through it, because what else could he do? But Valkorion had only toyed around with their bond before, he was never inside it, he couldn't be, Arcann hadn't even thought about it, hadn't even considered it. That day, Valkorion tried to break through his mind and dive into the bond. The reaction had been immediate. Not from him, not even from Thexan, but from the bond itself. It rejected the Immortal Emperor, purely and simply, a man whose power was unparalleled could not break through the strength of their bond. It didn't mean Arcann didn't feel violated by the attempt, didn't mean the man hadn't just try to worm his way through a most intimate part of his being. It didn't mean the pain of it hadn't made him bend over, all breath torn from his lungs._

_“Enough.” Thexan's voice was cold and sharp as steel, shaking with chained anger._

_In a matter of seconds, he had reached out through their stretched bond, his mind enveloping Arcann's as best he could._

_“The training is not over.” Valkorion said calmly._

_“It is.” Thexan replied, pushing the Knights that held him away with a controlled Force wave._

_He made his way to Arcann, his stride determined. Those that held his twin hesitantly stepped in his way, only to receive an ice cold look to warn them of what was to come if they insisted. Valkorion allowed them to move with a wave of his hand. Thexan walked past them, finally reaching Arcann, sending the Knights that held him away with a glare and finally enveloped his brother in his arms. Arcann felt the weight that suffocated him lift as he wrapped himself around his twin, bodies and souls finally fully reunited. Thexan's mind was embracing his own, soothing over the place Valkorion had tried to invade, purging it of his presence._

_'I'm here now, I'm here, I'm not letting him touch you again.'_

_Underneath Thexan's love and anger, Arcann could feel his fear, just as strong as his own. He'd been just as terrified when Valkorion tried to force his way through. Arcann gripped him tighter, burying his face in the crook of his neck, Thexan doing the same. Valkorion dismissed the Knights and approached his sons._

_“Your shields were not strong enough, Arcann.” Their Father's voice broke through, disturbing their fragile peace._

_Thexan turned to face him, anger returning._

_“You were thrown out of his mind, you broke in but our bond cast you out. You crawled your way inside even when he refused you entry, that was mind ra-” Thexan did not finish the thought, knowing there were lines he couldn't cross with their Father._

_He took a deep breath, his forehead against Arcann's, letting the smell of him appease him until he could look their Father in the eyes once more with a calmer heart._

_“I dare say he handled himself well.” His voice was controlled again, but Arcann could still feel the  edge in it._

_Valkorion started to move, what he truly intended, Arcann never knew, because in an instant Thexan stood between the both of them, his arms keeping his twin behind him. There was no word, no sound, nothing but Thexan and their Father locked in a staring match. Eventually, Valkorion turned away, leaving without a word, the remaining Knights following close behind._

_As for Arcann, he felt ashamed. Ashamed of his weakness, ashamed Thexan felt the need to protect him when he should be able to do so himself, ashamed-_

_“Stop it.” Thexan said quietly, cupping his face with tenderness, his thumb brushing against his cheek, 'You have no reason to be ashamed,' he continued through the bond, 'he should be the one to bow his head in shame, not you.'_

_Arcann shook his head._

_'I wasn't strong enough-'_

_'You were. You are. I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.'_

_Arcann always did love how Thexan looked at him. Like he was the most precious thing in the galaxy, like_ he _was lucky to have him._

_“Come,” Thexan said out loud, “let's go back to our chambers.”_

_None let go of the other at any point, arms around each other's waist the whole way. The sound of their door closing  was like a benediction, cutting them from the rest of the world. Protecting them. Thexan went deeper in their bond then, his mind like a familiar caress he couldn't get enough of. He felt his worry as he looked over the place their Father had tried to invade, could feel his indignation, his anger at what Valkorion had tried to do._

_'Never again,' he whispered as he embraced him both in mind and body, 'I'm not letting him do that ever again.'_

_'Don't be stupid,' Arcann replied though the oath filled his chest with warmth, 'We can't skip bond training.'_

_'Maybe not, but_ **_that_ ** _won't be happening again, not while I'm here. I won't let him hurt...you'_

_What's mine. Arcann knew the words Thexan hadn't let escape in the bonds. He didn't think of how pleased it made him feel, how his heart beat a little faster and his stomach fluttered. He was Thexan's and Thexan was his, such was the way of things. It hadn't seemed strange. He knew now it should have, he should have seen the signs of his sickness._

_“Come,” Thexan said, pulling away to his twin's regret, “let's take a bath, we more than earned our right to relax.”_

_Not to mention that bathing together remained one of their favourite moment. Arcann loved being so close to his brother, able to keep a constant skin to skin contact, he rarely felt safer, except in the circle of Thexan's arms. Obvious, so obvious now, yet it wasn't then._

_Arcann heard his twin curse from the bathroom._

_“What is it?” He asked as he took off his shirt._

_“We're out of soap,” his brother explained as he punched commands on the holocom,“We'll have to wait for more to come.”_

_“Well,” Arcann said, taking off his top and throwing it on the a nearby chair, before turning to face his twin, “we'll just fill the tub in the meantime, it doesn't really...”_

_Thexan was staring at him, looking somewhat mesmerised as his eyes trailed up and down._

_“Do I have something on me?” Arcann asked, half amused, half confused._

_That seemed to tear his twin back to the present. He thought he saw a hint of red creeping up his neck, but he probably imagined that. Thexan swallowed before giving him his smile, the true one, that was only for him to see, and all returned to it's place._

_“Nothing, I was just lost in thoughts.”_

_Arcann did feel a hint of embarrassment through their bond, which didn't surprise him as his brother never liked being caught unaware. Arcann was the only one being able to do so on a regular basis._

_They didn't have to wait long for the soap, but Arcann was surprised to see an actual person with the serving droid. They had no human servants, -why would they when they had droids?- but they did have overeager cosmetic specialists, apparently intent on making soap out of every scent in the galaxy._

_Arcann did not recognize her, as Valkorion changed his employees regularly to keep them from forming attachments. What he knew however, was that he didn't like the way she was staring at Thexan with stars in her eyes._

_“My princes,” she exclaimed happily as she bowed, too cheerful for Arcann's tastes, “It's wonderful you called, we have just made this new soap with extract of...”_

_Arcann stopped listening fairly quickly, and could tell that despite Thexan apparent interest and smile he was currently zoning out of the conversation. He'd always been terribly good at making perfect strangers feel like he was drinking in their every word._

_'Can we throw her out?' Arcann asked over their bond, getting impatient._

_'While I don't care for what she says, I will not be rude to her. We rule these people you know, they all deserved our respect.'_

_Arcann felt both embarrassed and angry at that. He'd always abhorred being surrounded by crowd of people or have strangers in his personal space, and was quick to anger at any_ _over-enthusiastic person who invaded his moments of  peace, especially those with Thexan._

_The girl was still babbling, staring at Thexan with that same starstruck look on her face. Arcann found himself growing even more annoyed; didn't she have any manners? Staring at people like that was hardly appropriate, especially since it was Thexan, her Prince, not some random boy in the street. Yet here she was, batting her eyelashes at him, not even realising Thexan would never look at her twice._

_“It's terrible I have to end this conversation,” his twin said, most likely sensing his irritation, “But as you can see,” he made a move at their bare chest, “We're hardly dressed for the occasion.”_

_She giggled, honest to Izax_ giggled _and leaned far too close to his twin for his taste._

_“Don't worry, I'm not offended,” Arcann rolled his eyes at that. Of course she wasn't, staring at Thexan was a blessing not an offence, “Will you be at the gala tonight? It would be terrible if we didn't get to see you! Me and a couple friends will be there as well,we'd love to spend time with you. We could do whatever you please.”_

_That was it. Arcann wouldn't stand there to hear more. Thexan was halfway through his polite reply when his twin interrupted him._

_“We have the soap now,” he said, “We should probably get to bathing and you should probably leave.”_

_He'd managed to chill the atmosphere with a couple of words. Unlike Thexan he had no talent for gracious replies or social interactions, all he knew was how to give orders to others._

_“Of course Your Imperial Highness!” She said as she curtseyed, eyes cast down, “I'm terribly sorry for taking so much of your time.”_

_Thexan quickly reassured her as he ushered both her and the droid to the door. Arcann felt a poke through their bond, telling him his brother hadn't liked his harsh tone much._

_“Thank you again for coming there when you could have just sent the droid, it's appreciated.”_

_The door closed once more and Thexan turned to Arcann._

_“You really didn't have to be so brusque.” He scolded as he went to the bathroom, followed by his brother, “She was not doing anything wrong.”_

_Arcann huffed, turning on the water._

_“She was blatantly asking if you'd be up for sex with her and her stupid friends.”_

_Thexan rolled his eyes._

_“Yes she was, like many other people we meet during these parties and outside of it. It didn't cost anything to indulge her talking, and it keeps people's opinion up.”_

_The fact that Thexan wasn't just dismissing the girl's offer right away irritated Arcann even more for some reason. He didn't know why then, but he did now. If only he'd known, perhaps he could have stopped it from growing._

_“So what? You're interested in her? She's not even that pretty and hardly sounded interesting, I bet her friends aren't any better!”_

_Thexan frowned, looking confused._

_“Why do you even care? If that's so important, then I can tell you I didn't intend to take her up on her offer.”_

_Arcann shrugged, keeping his back to his brother. He heard him sigh, then felt a hand on his shoulder making him turn around._

_“Arcann, what is it? I've messed around with a couple of boys and girls before and that never bothered you, what's different?”_

_'Because I'm seeing it.' His mind answered before his mouth could._

_Arcann wasn't sure then what had bothered him, only that it had. He knew that Thexan had explored his sexuality before, he had told him of course, they told each other everything, but to actually see it had felt... not right. He could feel Thexan was rather surprised by his answer. His eyes widened a little._

_'What do you mean?'_

_Arcann wasn't sure himself what he meant, he just didn't like it. Though if he was honest with himself, he'd have to admit he wasn't looking forward to Thexan getting attached to any lover, to have someone else intrude on their bond..._

_'I guess I just don't like sharing you.' he eventually answered._

_He was just being a jealous sibling after all, there was nothing strange about it. Not that he knew enough people to compare, he never really had friends that weren't Thexan or Vaylin, Valkorion made sure of that, so what did he even know? Not much, that was for sure._

_Thexan gave him that soft smile of his that made him melt inside ever since he was a child. He didn't want Thexan giving that smile to anyone else._

_“Idiot...” He whispered with fondness before cupping Arcann's face and planting his lips on his forehead._

_Arcann closed his eyes almost automatically, revealing in the touch, regretting as it went away, wishing it had lingered._

_'I don't like sharing you either.' He heard in his mind._

_He snorted._

_“People mostly look at you. We may be twins but you're still the one who looks better.”_

_Thexan's expression turned sad at that, making Arcann wish he could take his words back, he hated being the cause of his brother's upset. He could feel his thumb brushing against his cheek._

_“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”_

_Arcann hated the heat he could feel creeping up his neck, but how could he feel any other way when Thexan looked at him like he hung the stars? Here, under his gaze, he'd never felt more confident, more in control. As long as he had him, Arcann knew he could withstand anything._

_Something passed in Thexan's mind, something he felt pass in his mind as well but could not identify. Whatever it was broke the spell that held them together and Thexan took away his hands. All of a sudden, the room felt colder than before._

_“Come, it'd be nice to get into that bath at some point.”_

_Arcann could only nod in agreement._

_The water was no longer steaming, but it was still warm as they settled in. It wasn't strange for him to bath with Thexan, it was something they had always done, though he had realised with time, that not all twins were so comfortable with each other's nudity. And probably not all twins cuddled naked in a bath together. But Arcann couldn't imagine living without this. He could, in all practicality, he could. However the thought of having to made him sick. He took comfort in the fact that should Thexan ever die, he would follow right after._

_Grim thought of death quickly vanished as his twin rubbed the soap on his back, the movement soothing, appeasing, and he knew by listening to his brother's chuckle that he was almost purring._

_'You're one big grumpy cat.'_

_'Shut up.'_

_'You don't want me to.'_

_True, he didn't. Thexan's voice was as familiar as breathing, he would never tire of hearing it. He felt him pour water down his back, rinsing away the soap. The smell was spicy and addictive, and he found himself enjoying it a lot. Perhaps that girl did something right after all, at the very least she was good at making new soaps._

_They switched after that and it was Arcann's turn to wash his brother's back. As he did so, he found his hands lingering on his skin, finger tracing scars he knew as though they were his own, almost all gone thanks to the Eternal Empire's surgery but not completely. Valkorion did not want them to forget their failures. Arcann didn't know for how long he'd been passing his hands up and down now, it wasn't even washing anymore, it was caressing, but he could feel the water turning cool. Yet he didn't want to take his hands off, even as he rinsed Thexan's back._

_'Then don't,' he heard in his mind, 'I quite like where they are.'_

_Thexan had his eyes closed, already half asleep as he leaned against Arcann's chest, his arms wrapping of their own volition around him._

_'I'd like to stay a bit longer' He added as his head rested in the crook of Arcann's neck._

_'Yes, I'd like that too.' Was his answer as he nuzzled Thexan's cheek._

_He felt their bond glow as their mind merged deeper, joining as one, giving him a peace nothing else could. Yet somehow, he felt they could go even further, that this was not the limit. He felt both of their souls, tightly knitted together as they were in this moment, wanting to cross this invisible line but not quite knowing how. It was alright though._

_They would find out in time._

 

**

(It was the first time in ages he relived an untainted memory of his time with Thexan)

 

**

 

Arcann was aware of the smell of incense first. A heady fragrance that made him feel a bit ill, so strong it was probably here to cover something worse. The second thing he was aware of was the feel of air on his scarred cheek. Someone had taken his mask off. He felt naked without it, vulnerable and it took great effort to keep still. He didn't know where he was, pretending to sleep was safer. He felt a mattress beneath him, so someone had most likely put him on a bed. There were no shackles or any other form of restraint but it didn't meant the place he was in wasn't a cell. Finally, he sensed the presence not far from him.

Someone was in the room.

The person wasn't really far, but they were distracted, that much he could tell: he could hear the sound of objects being moved, footsteps walking around, as well as a quiet humming. If that person was a guard, they were terrible at their work. There was nothing more to learn here as long as he was blind, so he opened his eyes carefully. Arcann's first though was that this place didn't look like a cell. Lava red walls and large mirrors with several baubles that decorated the place. It was overly luxurious, like a lot of Zakuul but... cheaper. He could feel the shimmersilk beneath his hands was imitation and even from this distance recognized the precious stones that adorned the place as counterfeit. Valkorion made sure they weren't allowed the same luxury the citizens of Zakuul were but you can't grow up surrounded by it without recognizing when it was faked. This place was made to shine, nothing more.

Eventually, Arcann's eyes landed on the woman, who still hadn't noticed his awakening, nor was she looking in his direction. He had the time to kill her almost three time already and she wouldn't have been aware. She was the Nautolan he had seen right before blacking out. He had never really seen any aliens up close before. Well, he had, but always during a fight, with the intent to kill, not observe. The Nautolan woman had teal coloured skin made of barely visible scales that reminded him of a fish. She was currently applying some sweet scented oil on her... hair? Tentacles? He wasn't sure what to call it, but he would go with hair, while she hummed a song. Eventually, Arcann spotted his mask lying near the bed, next to a couple of other carefully wrapped items. He lunged for his mask before he could think better of it. He heard the surprised exclamation of the woman but paid it no mind as he scrambled to get his currently sluggish limbs to cooperate and get his mask back on. These people had seen him without his mask, seen his scars, seen his weakness, he _needed_ the mask back. However he quickly remembered he only had one hand, the mechanical one still absent, and putting the mask back on single handed was near impossible.

“You, hum, you'd like some help?”

Her large black eyes were on him now. She didn't look threatening, nor did she appear to be a guard of any sort. Arcann was pretty sure he was not held as a prisoner in this place, which meant the people here weren't aware of who he was. All of that could be used to his advantage in order to slip away, but it had to be done fast.

“I don't need help.” He snapped, even as he failed to strap the mask back on.

The look on the Nautolan's face was dubious.

“Well then, be my guest.”

There was sarcasm in her voice as she folded her arms and simply leaned back to observe him.

Arcann didn't like it one bit, getting even more irritated with each fruitless attempt. He wasn't used to the absence of his prosthetic, his fingers felt clumsy, and his mask kept on slipping away. He _had_ to put the mask back on, that stranger had already seen him too weak, too vulnerable, he could not let her see any more! The damn thing eventually fell from his hand and landed on the mattress. Arcann let out a frustrated growl.

The Nautolan didn't say a word, only observed him silently. What he needed to ask her was humiliating, but it seemed to be a necessity. He took a deep breath, readying himself before he met her eyes and spoke.

“It appears I require your assistance for this.”

Shame washed over him before he finished his sentence. The whole situation was quite pathetic. One missing arm and he became an impotent not even able to accomplish a task as simple as putting his mask back on. He didn't dare to remember how pitiful he was when his mother had to care for him during these last weeks as though he were a newborn again. How she had not given up was still a mystery to him.

Thankfully the Nautolan did not gloat nor did she appear too pleased when she heard him relent, or at least he couldn't read the emotion or her face. Her eyes weren't displaying her feelings as human ones did, which in this case was a mercy for him. She approached him without a word and strapped his mask back on. It took all Arcann had not to let out a sigh of relief when he felt the cold metal settle on his face and stay there. Less human, more machine. Less vulnerable, less weak.

“Name's Kianta by the way. And you're welcome.” She simply said before stepping back.

Arcann hesitated a while before nodding in her direction, acknowledging her words. A difficult thing to do as every single one of his instinct were screaming at him that the only way to truly be safe would be to break her neck and get out of here. A couple of months ago he may have done just that, but his head felt cleaner today, his thoughts calmer. He frowned. It was a strange feeling, familiar and yet foreign, like a long forgotten memory returning to him slowly.

The woman was no immediate threat. She didn't need to die, not until she became one.

Arcann took another deep breath, fighting back the paranoia.

_No allies, only enemies._

Valkorion's lessons felt like tattoos in his brain. Except it didn't only sound like Valkorion. It also sounded like him.

_When Darkness finds you, you will face it alone._

'Shut up!'

Thexan's surprised face when he struck him.

_Alone._

The weight of him in his arms.

_Alone._

His hand slipping away.

_Alone._

His eyes, beautiful eyes, closing, never to open again.

_Alone_

“SHUT UP!”

The scared gasp from the Nautolan brought him back, and he almost reached for a lightsaber that wasn't at his side before stilling his hand.

Not an enemy.

Not a threat.

Arcann took a deep breath, setting his clenched fist by his side. The Force he had called upon settled as well, a layer of tension leaving the room.

“This outburst... was uncalled for.” He managed to get out in a clipped tone.

The Nautolan -Kianta she said?- looked wary, but not terribly afraid which was a good news. If she feared him too much, she would not help him out of here. And as humiliating as it was, he did need the help.

“That's cool,” she said, though her eyes didn't leave him as she put her bottle of oil back on a shelf, “Got a lot of people here who have these... outbursts. Life is a bitch like that, leaves souvenirs behind.”

Arcann had no wish to discuss this further and hoped she wouldn't push. He knew he wouldn't keep his temper down if she did. Fortunately she didn't add anything.

Until she did.

“No offence, but you look like shit.”

Well.

Considering recent events, he probably did. A quick look at his clothes showed him the white fabric had been dirtied by dust and soot, making him wonder why they bothered to put him on a clean bed at all. His whole body was aching and he was probably covered with bruises, not to mention his face already looked like a ruin. But all that was secondary to getting out of here and away from people. The how was still a big question, he didn't know where he was, had no shuttle anymore, no more lightsaber, probably lost in the crash and...

Thexan's clothes. He took them with him like a talisman, as nothing else would help him catch a few hours of restless sleep. They were on his personal shuttle. Now they had been lost in the crash as well. The last physical piece of Thexan he had. Gone in flames, like his body when they _burned_ him-

“Hey, are you ill? Do you need something?”

Kianta's voice anchored him to the moment once more, keeping him from the infernal spiral of his thoughts.

“I'm fine.” He replied, voice more emotionless than he felt.

Maybe she rolled her eyes, but it was hard to tell.

“Yes. 'Fine'. Sure thing.”

She went to a glass table on the other side of the room, and picked up a glass and a carafe of water she put next to him.

“I know you want your mask on, but you may need to drink, I'll actually be surprised if you aren't dehydrated.”

Now that Arcann stopped to think about it, his throat _was_ parched. He would have to drink, but later, when he was alone - _if_ she left him alone at some point. He couldn't take his mask off again, not so soon.

Kianta kept on talking.

“There's a bathroom behind that door,” she pointed the right side of the room, “I trust you'll find all you need. You'll have to 'cause that's all you'll get. Just don't break stuff or anything, else the Lady Boss will be pissed.”

Lady Boss? So she had some form of superior, whatever her employment was.

“I'll tell Mafeesh to bring some food, he's probably done with his client by now.” A smirk bloomed on her face, “Old rodians don't usually last long.”

Arcann didn't catch what she meant by this last sentence but it hardly mattered at the moment, all he wanted right now was for her to leave. She almost did but stopped right in front of the door, dashing his hopes.

“By the way,” she said, going to the neatly packed items near the bed, “I had meant to ask before, but are you some sort of Jedi or Sith or something?”

He widened his eyes at her question, confused, wondering if this was a trap of some kind. Perhaps she did know who he was, just waiting for confirmation so she could warn the Alliance...

Kianta turned, holding out his lightsaber to him.

“Cause we found this with you. Well, I found. Mafeesh was carrying you while I picked up as much of your stuff as I could.”

Arcann took the weapon without a word, his hand shaking. It was indeed his lightsaber, with all the slight imperfection gained over the years of use, his focus crystal softly humming, it's song stuttered ever since he lost Thexan. Crystals were attuned to their wielders, and his had never been the same since that day.

Just like him.

Strangely enough, the bond did not surge forward to hurt him at the thought. He knew it was there, would have been in a complete panic if he could no longer feel the bond, but it was... numb. As though someone had sedated it so no strong sensation could pass through.

“So,” Kianta asked again tearing him from his musing, “Jedi or Sith?”

“None,” he said quietly, “Something else I guess.”

The Nautolan shrugged.

“Doesn't matter, as long as you don't use that,” she pointed her chin to the weapon, “The room shouldn't go on lockdown. You do anything stupid and the place will spray you in carbonite before you know it.”

So there _was_ a minimum of security. Carbonite, how poetic. Arcann strangely found himself appreciating the irony. Arcann replaced the lightsaber at his belt, the sensation familiar and comforting.

“I won't use it without reason.” He simply said, which was the best he could promise he knew himself enough to recognise he would draw his weapon at the first sign of danger. Or anything he perceived as such.

Kianta cocked her head on the side.

“Yeah? I'll make sure everyone knows not to startle you, you look like the trigger-happy kind. Or, well, lightsaber-happy kind in your case I guess...”

Not an inaccurate statement, though the itch to draw his weapon was no longer persistent. It was strange but not in a bad way, it was actually... resting.

Kianta pointed the rest of his wrapped items.

“I took what looked important and that I could carry. Hope you won't be missing anything big, cause your shuttle has probably been picked clean by now. Anyway, like I said, Mafeesh will come by with food, but you probably have the time to wash if you like, or rest more. Don't go out in the corridors though or the clients will think you work here and that'd be awkward.”

She let out a chuckle. He found himself wondering again what her job was. It didn't matter in the long run because all he wanted was to leave this place as soon as possible. To where? He didn't know for sure yet, but if his mother truly lived he had to find her. Vaylin was his next priority, but she probably was enraged with him still, his sister was quite talented at holding grudges. Just like him.

But before going anywhere, Arcann had to know where he was.

“Wait,” he called, making Kianta turn back to him, “The planet we're on, which one is it?”

“You don't know?” There was surprise in her voice, she most likely didn't expect his question, “Well, sorry to break it to you, but you're on Hutta.”

 

**

 

Thexan would have probably known where Hutta was situated exactly, as well as basic information about the place. During their war on the Core Worlds, he was always eager to learn everything he could about these new worlds, not to mention the strategic informations were needed for battle plans. Arcann always loved the smile that would grace his brother's face whenever he was presented with new knowledge, how his eyes moved quickly along the words.

 _“Thexan, go to sleep.”_ He would tell him when he entered his tent or his room in the flagship during the late hours.

 _“Just a couple more lines.”_ Would always be the answer as he brother rubbed his eyes, trying to keep sleep at bay.

Arcann would sigh, grab the datapad, earning himself a protest from his twin, and settle in bed with him to keep him from reaching for it right away. Thexan would mutter something about him being annoying, just as he made room for him in the bed. It always felt natural to sleep cuddled up to Thexan's chest with his brother's arms wrapped around him. Arcann knew he shouldn't have been doing that, especially with his sick feelings for his twin, but it was a habit of childhood that had never faded and he had no strength to break it. Thexan seemed to be fond of it as well, but perhaps he had simply been indulging him. Yes, it had probably been that, Thexan showing too much kindness, again.

In any case, Thexan would have known about Hutta, whereas Arcann had no idea what the place was like. The only Core Worlds he knew were those important to the Empire, such as Dromund Kaas, Coruscant or Denova. He didn't even know all that much about the planets where Star Fortresses had been situated. The truth was he hadn't cared all that much, only sending the Exarchs with as much resources as they liked and allowed them to do whatever they pleased as long as they kept the people from rebelling.

However, it wasn't hard for Arcann to quickly understand that the place he was at currently was some sort of brothel and Kianta was probably one of the prostitute here, what with all the sex related items that could be found in the room _and_ bathroom. Not to mention that once silence fell in the room again, shouts were much easier to hear. Some people were quite loud. Not ideal, but Arcann guessed he could have stumbled upon worse.

He took off his mask once more, feeling safer now that he was alone, and the water that slid down his throat felt heavenly. Washing was the next luxury he felt he hadn't enjoyed in far too long, though he couldn't find it in himself to linger. It may have been six years but he was still uncomfortable with his scars, the rough feelings of them under his fingertips, the worst remaining the stump of his arm. It felt wrong, alien to him and 'What would Thexan have thought?'. Arcann shuddered, remembering NotThexan cold, harsh words. He got out of the bath as fast as he could without slipping.

He knew Thexan wasn't cruel, wasn't anything like the hallucination that kept him company during the last weeks but a tiny voice kept repeating that was all before Arcann killed him. Would his twin ever have forgiven something like that had he lived? His heart wanted to believe he would have.

_Would he have forgiven your feelings?_

Arcann had no answer to that, only a fear that gripped his heart. It didn't matter now anyway.

Thexan was dead.

Arcann held his breath, waiting for the unbearable pain to come, but there was only his overwhelming sorrow, the bond didn't writhe in pain at the thought like it usually did and a dull ache in place of agony. Carefully, he approached the bond. He knew it was still there, had the awareness of it's existence, but simply couldn't get a grip on it. He hesitated for a few seconds before taking hold of the bond. He already knew the pain it had to offer. Without fail he winced, but the pain felt wonderful compared to what it used to be. There was... something on his bond, that was stopping it from drowning all else, something that felt alien, but also clean, non-invasive, like a bandage. It did not belong there, but it was meant to help. Was it what the aliens -Voss, he remembered the name now- did on his mother's demand? Keep the sense of loss muted enough that he could hear his own thoughts again. The darkness had done a good job of it, but it had been so messy, so out of control. This felt... blank. The first image that came to him to describe the feeling was that of an untouched canvas, completely neutral and sterile. Oh, the bond still hurt, but it was an ache he could set aside, a pain he could live with, without wanting to smash his head against a wall. There were no voices, no void threatening to suck him in, no NotThexan whispering in his ear. It was painful, but it was also better.

Arcann's eyes went to the salvaged items. He didn't dare to hope, but he went through them anyway. He found a couple of credit chips and was quite surprised they weren't stolen, some supplies he used for his prosthetic maintenance, useless now, but he'd need a new arm at some point anyway. He could also see products he used for his lightsaber and...

Arcann's breath itched.

The black cloth felt as it always did between his fingers, yet it brought tears to eyes. Gently, he pulled it out, laying it on his laps. It was just as he had left it, with the burn right across the mid-section. Seeing it brought the familiar lump of guilt and grief up his throat, but he couldn't help the relief that washed over him at the same time. He still had Thexan's clothes, they weren't gone. He hadn't lost everything. They had lost his scent long ago, but they still offered a small comfort whenever he held them close. It was ridiculous, he kept telling himself, he wasn't an infant, he was in no need of some security blanket, he never even had one when he was a child. He hadn't needed it, Thexan was his safety blanket. They would sleep together every night, they didn't need to agree on it, or discuss it, it came to them naturally, even as toddlers, it didn't cross their mind to use the two beds and separate rooms they were provided. They cuddled up together in a single bed bickered a few minutes over who would get to nuzzle before falling asleep, arms around each other. They both wanted to bury their face in the other's neck, unfortunately, only one could do it at a time. Either way they'd both end up sleeping with their limbs tangled together, or they spooned, draping themselves in the other's warmth.

Arcann felt the tears rise tingling his eyes but he held them back as he always did. It was a weakness. Yet he couldn't help but enjoy the memories that tore him up in the sweetest way. Happiness was such a double-edge blade that would cut you open should you let it slip away. What's the use of a good memory if it brings so much pain?

_Getting philosophic, are we?_

Perhaps that's what too much idle time on his hands did to his mind. It had been so long since he let it wander, but when he tried to, the emptiness of the bond would be there, prowling in the dark, waiting. He shuddered, still aware of the cold void that lay under the newly built trapdoor.

Senya had done this for him, she had taken the darkness away, not just her of course, but he would never have found the Voss, much less asked them for help without her, hell, he wouldn't have made it out of his flagship without her. It was still hard to accept that she had come for him, even after all that happened, because she... loved him? It sounded like an old forgotten song, something a much younger him had known, 'Mother loves me'. He had killed Thexan, why would anyone love him? He never even tried to make his people love him, or worship him like they had Valkorion, he wanted to be feared. Fear kept people obedient and far from him. Love sounded like little more than a word after so long without thinking about it. Arcann knew he loved Vaylin, that he had wanted her safe and out of her cage forever, when he was a child he had wanted her to smile and laugh. He had vague memories of his mother being pregnant with her, him and Thexan poking curiously at her round belly because they felt _something_ was inside, and their giggling when _something_ had answered their Force nudges. She had moved their toys when she was still in the womb before they even could. But Vaylin hadn't been the same since he went to get her from Nathema. He was so glad when Valkorion gave the order to retrieve her, because his little sister wouldn't be locked up anymore, no longer stuck on this awful planet that filled him with dread. But she hadn't been the same, she had been so far from what he remembered in fact, he had no idea how to be her brother.

But his love for his mother, his love for his sister, those were normal loves. It wasn't like his love for Thexan that had grown beyond measures, grown into something it wasn't supposed to. Arcann held the tunic tighter against his chest.

'I'm sorry' he thought, and that did not even begin to cover it, 'I'm so sorry, I wish I could take it all back, I wish I could switch my life for yours. Or at least die with you'

_You cannot mend what's meant to be One with only a half._

The words of the Voss were true. Too true, even if he left this place, where would he even go? How? Could he find Senya? Was she even still alive? What about Vaylin, what had happened to her after the flagship blew up?

What was he supposed to _do_ now?

Arcann's thoughts were interrupted by the door opening again, and he quickly put Thexan's top where he found it. He made sure to keep his left side hidden from view as he fumbled for his mask.

He recognised the Weequay as the one who found him with Kianta. The man truly was a giant.

“Hey,” he exclaimed as he put down the plate of food he was holding, “Good to see you upright, thought you would have gone back to sleep, what with the time I took!”

“The time you took?” Arcann asked, trying to keep the surprise from his voice. It hadn't felt that long since Kianta left, not to mention he had done little more than washing and changing back to his under tunics.

“It's been at least an hour and a half.” Mafeesh answered as he settled on the sofa and invited him to do the same. Arcann opted to sit on the armchair that faced him, unwilling to be right next to a stranger, silently cursing his single arm. He wouldn't have been so slow to do simple actions with his prosthetic. He kept his mask on his laps, knowing it'd have to be off if he intended to eat. Not that he had any real desire to, but his body needed sustenance and it didn't look like Mafeesh was leaving any time soon. Curse him. The Weequay had leather-like skin, reddish braided hair that came from the back of his head and fell on his shoulders with coloured beads laced in the strands. Both his eyes were blue, but they did not have the same shade, the right was a deep dark blue, the left was bright cyan. It made his gaze uneven and slightly unnerving. Arcann neither squirmed or looked away, too used to stand straight under Valkorion's cold stare to flinch. Still, the knowledge this man could see his scars, his infirmity made shame crawl from his chest and up his throat.

Mafeesh cocked his head on the side, the expression on his face was... curious.

“You're a quiet one, aren't you?”

Insult or simple statement? Arcann couldn't tell, though his instinct was telling him to get angry. He squashed it down, took a deep breath and kept his eyes locked on a point past the weequay's shoulder.

“I didn't see the need I had for words in this situation.”

His answer seemed to puzzle the other man even more. Good.

“Okay,” Mafeesh said, still looking at him strangely, “Got you some food, don't worry, it's all human friendly. I think.” He frowned as he examined the plate again, “Maybe not the purple stuff. Avoid it just in case.”

The food did look mostly edible, except indeed for the 'purple stuff'. Still he didn't make any move to eat. Arcann knew he needed it, but he was also itching to strap his mask back on, and wishing the Weequay would leave. The silence was growing awkward, Mafeesh staring at him like some mother hen, waiting for him to start his meal. The tension was broken by a sudden arrival.

“Mafeesh, Mafeesh,” a girl happily exclaimed barging in, “Where's the new guy, where's the new guy?!”

She had bubblegum pink skin, dark violet wavy hair and clear lavender eyes. It took a couple seconds for Arcann to remember the species called 'Zeltron' before another came in, identical to the first, except for her tied up hair. They were followed by a third one, a copy of the two first as well, but her hair was cut short. Triplets.

A strange feeling flooded Arcann at the sight, an alien mix of envy and nostalgia. They settled on the couch around Mafeesh, giggling and throwing him curious looks. Clearly he was the place's new attraction.

“Well hello there ladies, I thought you were working!”

The short-haired one shook her head.

“Nah, we finished earlier than usual, someone cancelled their appointment. So we went to see the new guy!”

They looked awfully eager, far too much for Arcann's tastes, his hand clenched around his mask, the need to put it on growing harder to resist. Actually, it would already be on his face if he didn't want to avoid the fiasco of the previous time. He could not stand the thought of asking someone's help again so soon.

“Well,” Mafeesh said, answering the women, “He's not exactly a 'new guy', I don't think he intends to work here. Pleasure barges don't seem to be his natural environment.”

There was a spike of anger and embarrassment at the words. Arcann knew he'd sooner take bounty hunting jobs rather than this.

“So, let me introduce you ladies-”

“Oh no, no, no,” the one with tied-up hair interrupted, “Let me do it!”

“No, me!” Another whined.

“And why shouldn't it be me?”

“Because I'm the prettiest!”

“We literally have the same face, girl!”

“Hey!” Mafeesh's booming voice cut in, “How about each person present themselves?”

All three women nodded reluctantly.

“Okay, so I'm Noeva!” the wavy-haired one said, “And I'm Celri!” the one with short hair piped up, immediately followed by “And I'm Adeja!”

They immediately started talking over each other yet still seemed to understand what each sister was saying. It made a buzzing noise that made Arcann want to turn off his brain, but at least, he didn't actually have to talk. Though the itch to tell them to shut up was growing strong.

“Hey, girls!” Mafeesh exclaimed effectively interrupting the three chatterboxes, “Don't talk the poor man's ears off, I don't want him to pass out again.”

They pouted but started to ask him questions one by one, his answers limiting themselves to 'yes', 'no' and non-committal grunts. He kept hoping they would leave before his slim self-control slipped and he lashed out. Arcann didn't worry about hurting them as much as he worried about how it could affect his escape. Before him, the food remained untouched, a fact he was sure Mafeesh had noticed. The man looked like a brute, but Arcann was almost certain sharp mind laid behind his uneven eyes that kept scrutinising him.

Then of course, one of the girl, Noeva perhaps, had to ask his name.

What was he supposed to answer that? Not his real name obviously but then what?

He never had to invent anything for the door opened in that moment, dispensing from answering.

A Devaronnian poked his head through, scanning the room until his eyes landed on one of the Zeltron girl.

“Celri! I finished my day, Lady Boss said we can catch some time together!”

In a matter of seconds, the short-haired girl had jumped from the couch and ran to him. Now that Arcann looked at her with more attention, she and her sisters looked young, rather too young to be a sex worker but perhaps her species just appeared that way.

Adeja lets out a sigh.

“I can't believe she's still with Kuzeen! He's too old for her!”

Noeva shrugged.

“You know we do much older people.”

“Yeah, but Kuzeen is someone she chooses to be with! And I think he's too old!”

Her sister rolled her eyes at that.

“He's just eighteen, he has what, two years on her?”

That was the first thing that made Arcann actually look at the girls since they came in. Were they truly sixteen? They had pleasure workers in Zakuul of course, but Arcann didn't remember any that wasn't above twenty.

“Doesn't really matter in the end,” Noeva said, rising up, “If he hurts her, we'll turn him to bog food.”

“Obviously.” Adeja answered, following her sister to the door, and Arcann now noticed the strange collar around her neck. Noeva had the same, and after inspection, so did Mafeesh. Actually, if he remembered correctly, Celri and Kianta had one similar, so did the Devaronian they just saw. The collar was smooth, without any visible opening.

“Well, bye bye new guy!” Noeva says happily turning to him, “Was fun meeting you!”

the door shut with a single hiss behind them.

“I know the triplets can be a bit much, but they don't have a lot of new thing around here. You're probably the most exciting thing to happen this year.”

“Aren't they too young for this?” Arcann asked though he didn't mean too, but curiosity got the upper hand.

When he was sixteen himself, he felt like an adult already, now that he was twenty-seven and looking at them, they seemed like little more than teenagers. Did he have that youthful air on him as well?

Mafeesh let out a mirthless laugh.

“They're lucky they are sixteen, a lot of brothels make their prostitutes start much earlier. The earliest I saw was probably ten or something.”

The words alone were enough to make Arcann slightly sick, the triplets were young but the thought of an actual child being pushed into a sexual encounter was nauseating. There wasn't much he reproved of but rape was among such things. Even today he could still remember the feeling of Valkorion breaking inside his mind, or picking apart their bond to his heart's content. The sensation of being violated without any wound to show for it. He hated how helpless it made him feel, could still hear Valkorion's voice; ' _If you have no mark on your body then you are not hurt_.' Arcann had quickly stopped complaining about any pain that wasn't visible on his body. Or any pain at all, really. Except to Thexan, who always knew if he was unwell without him having to breath a word.

Arcann was surprised to see Mafeesh had now put food right under his nose, forcing him to return to reality.

“Look, I'm really not trying to be your mother or anything, but you fainted. Maybe you don't want to hear it but you did, and you were unconscious for almost a whole day, so you need to eat.”

Everyone of the man's words irritated Arcann, but he knew them to be true: he wouldn't get off this planet by starving himself. It didn't stop his skin from crawling at the thought of accepting another's help.

_Weakweakweak._

_Don'tletthemseedon'tletthemsee._

Not even a thought but an instinct, a reaction imprinted in his brain: only a failure needs help. Arcann accepted the food reluctantly and bit into it without any enthusiasm. He didn't even pay attention to the taste, simply wolfing it down until his body felt filled enough.

“So,” Mafeesh started again once he was done, “You got lucky when you had to dodge that question about your name. Kuzeen always has a great timing.”

And Arcann hoped to dodge it for even longer. But avoiding such a simple question would be suspicious. Damn, what should he do?

_Thexan, what would you do?_

Arcann didn't expect any answer yet he still found himself saddened when none came. Truth was, Thexan would never have found himself in such situation to begin with.

Mafeesh sighed.

“Look, you don't want to say your name that's fine, you probably don't trust us and that's normal. But let's at least be honest, you look out of your element here, you seem like the type to be more comfortable on a Mandalorian hunt rather than on a Huttese pleasure barge. But you're dressed too fine for a Mando,” Mafeesh pointed his under tunic, “That's some great quality synthfiber you got there, and they don't bother with that stuff. I'm pretty sure they'd have underwear made of durasteel if they could. Also you have a lightsaber which rules out the Mando theory if the first clues weren't enough. From your state, you escaped a fight, I don't wanna know what fight, I don't want to get involved, but what I'm trying to say is we're not your enemy.” The words were familiar, reminiscent of his fight with the Outlanders. It sounded so alien, the notion that someone would help just because they wanted to, not because they wanted something out of it, “Kianta and I found you, you were hurt, you looked like you needed help, we provided what we could. We're just slaves, it's not like we're out to get you, so you don't have to be so skittish-”

“You're slaves?”

The question had escaped without Arcann's consent, but the concept of slaves was still strange even after years. They had no slaves on Zakuul, their Empire so overflowing with wealth they could afford to give away money in yearly stipends to their citizens. Only the disgraced descendants of those who had once opposed Valkorion lived in filth, along with the cult of Zilrog (Before he elevated their status so they would stay in line without bothering him), but even then those people weren't slaves. What need would Zakuul even have for slaves when they had an unending supply of droids to cater to their every need? The very concept of slave had sounded stupid when he first discovered it during their conquest on the Core Worlds: a person had so many needs that must be fulfilled in order to be an efficient servant when all a droid needed was a regular maintenance.

 _“It's not about practicality,”_ Thexan had concluded one day, looking upon the slave pen of one of the invaded world, _“It's about humiliation. They don't need half those slaves, they just appreciate the complete and utter control they have on another's life. They can end it on a whim, because they're not people, they're objects they possess. They like owning others, their life, their identity.”_

Thexan had made that same disgusted frown he did whenever they talked of an insufferable person they had to tolerate during a party, before turning away.

“The collar didn't give us away?” Mafeesh asked as he pointed his neck, dragging Arcann back to the present, “They're the latest generation, made to look pretty and unobtrusive, equipped with a high-tech electrical system, to shock us on great number of level, from the little spark to the lethal charge!” His voice was dripping with fake enthusiasm.

Arcann was surprised to find himself feeling... something. Like anger except it was on the behalf on another. Perhaps because of the sudden memory of Thexan's reaction to the slave pens, or perhaps because he didn't dislike Mafeesh on sight, or perhaps a mix of both, but Arcann found himself glaring at the innocent looking contraption on the Weequay's neck.

“Is everyone of you a slave?”

Mafeesh shrugged.

“Not the guards, they're part of the cartel, bartenders are free-folks too,but other than that yeah, we're pretty much all slaves.”

Every pleasure worker of Zakuul was such by choice, not because they had been forced into it. The memory of Jeena popped up in his mind. She'd been the only person of a brothel he had seen more than once. She hadn't been fake or brainless like most on Zakuul and her caustic wit was refreshing. She had been the one he went to whenever he tried to banish the very not brotherly thoughts of Thexan.

 _“Well, well, my handsome prince,”_ she'd say, laughing, her pearly white teeth almost glittering in contrast with her dark skin, _“Your mysterious sweetheart has yet to fall for your charms?”_

She had picked out on the fact he was quite literally trying to fuck someone out of his mind, but nothing else, nor did she ever ask him questions. She was confident in what she did, at ease, unlike the people here who were forced into it. Arcann couldn't fathom what could possibly be arousing in having sex with someone who had no desire to lay with you.

“Did you even have the authorisation to bring me here?” Arcann wondered out loud.

Slaves did not have the right to make decisions, yet they were now using their resources to feed and house him.

Mafeesh shrugged.

“Hutts don't really care what we do as long as the credits keep coming. We could honestly stop what we're doing and start a circus if it was as profitable, but alas, sex has more adepts ready to spend. In each and every sense of the term.” The pun was terrible enough to make Arcann roll his eyes without meaning to, the Weequay looked rather smug at that, “And the Lady Boss was fine with it anyway.”

“She's your master?”

“No, just another slave, but she has a nice rank, nice quarters and the right to give us orders. She's our liaison with the masters. Came by to see you, but your were still out of it.”

Mafeesh rose, stretching a bit before speaking again.

“I'll be leaving, now that I'm sure you got something to eat. No way I carried you all that way for nothing, you weren't that light pal!” He hesitated for a second, hand above the controls of the door, “I'm bunking down the hall with some other guys if you need anything. You can move around during day hours, there aren't any clients. Don't go near the Cartel guys though, they're arseholes. See ya.”

And with those few words, he was gone. Silence felt comfortable to Arcann's ears, true silence this time, no screams or shouts every now and then. Their working hours were probably done for the time being. Arcann put his mask on the table next to the remaining food, unwilling for another round of frustration to put it back on. He felt terribly tired again, now that his mind and body had accepted the fact that he was in no immediate danger, they demanded more rest. He went to the bathroom again, intent on finding something to wash his mouth, but went completely still when he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Thexan's eyes were staring back at him.

Arcann took several steps back, almost crashing into the bathtub behind him. They weren't Thexan's eyes, not exactly, yet they were almost as familiar as his twin's. They were _his_ eyes. Clear blue, reflecting his panic and his confusion. When had they turned back?

Arcann kept staring at the mirror for another long minute, but his eyes didn't switch back to a burning orange. It felt so strange, almost alien, to see their natural colours again. He stayed motionless a long time, staring at his reflection, wondering what it meant. Why, after all this time? Was it something the Voss had done? Not impossible, considering the fire in his eyes came with the darkness, it made sense that it would leave with it as well. He felt a tremor in his hand, a sign he knew too well, knew the shaking that wanted to take hold of his body again, and clenched his fist as hard as he could to control it. He could no longer put on his mask whenever he desired, nor did have any flames to hide his eyes, he was... more like before. More human, more mortal.

It did not feel terribly good.

Arcann turned brusquely away from the mirror, unwilling to look at his image any longer. It was like looking at a stranger. A lost, confused stranger who had no idea how he got to this point. Funny, how his metal mask and his prosthetic had become more familiar part of his body than his own flesh.

The bed sunk under his weight, and he hesitated, despite the terribly inviting pillow. Was it truly safe to rest? He knew neither those people nor this place. Then again, why bother setting him comfortably if they intended to give him away to the Alliance? A cell would have done the trick, he would have attempted to escape of course, but considering his state, there was no guarantee he would have succeeded. Arcann's body shouted at him to get some more much needed sleep, and it won over his paranoia in the end. He finally laid down, and despite being as tense as ever, his eyes closed of their own volition, and sleep found him with more ease than it had in years.

 

**

 

_Arcann should have known that bringing up Jeena at the forefront of his thoughts would somehow trigger a memory she was related to. He remembered hearing her laugh one night at the pleasure house. It was loud and joyous, and he found himself annoyed at how someone could always be this happy. Or maybe it was simply envy._

_“Dear Scyva! My handsome prince, what did you see that would put such an awful frown on your attractive features?”_

_Her voice was teasing -it always was- as she nudged him with her naked foot. Well, 'naked' wasn't quite the right term as her ankle was decorated with bracelets, her toes painted with bright nail polish, and her brown skin dusted with golden powder. She wasn't even a person, she was a work of art, and half the time, Arcann didn't sleep with her, because why disturb such masterpiece? But all her shiny attires could not have torn his gaze away from what was going on below._

_Thexan was there, that he already knew, just like his brother himself was most likely aware of his presence in the area. The bond never left doubts as to the other's location, they had been in the pleasure house at the same time before, and Arcann had always hated it. Even before he realised his feelings it had irritated him. Now that he knew his own heart the thought was enough to kill whatever arousal he might have had. But never before this night, had Thexan been right under his gaze. His blood boiled whenever he saw any of the workers touch him._

_'Get your filthy hands off him!' He wanted to shout but thankfully restrained himself. The small mercy was that Thexan was still fully dressed, or Arcann would have already stomped downstairs to snatch him away._

_“Nothing that concerns you.” He eventually snapped at Jeena as an answer._

_She neither flinched nor got offended, used as she was to his mercurial temper. There weren't many who didn't recoil at his outbursts. Like, for example, the young man currently between his legs who most likely intended to give him a head. He was so focused on Thexan he hadn't even seen him approach. Arcann pushed him away without much care. There was only one person he truly wanted between his legs and he wouldn't have him._

_“Not in the mood.” He growled without a look to the other man, his eyes still locked on his twin down below._

_From the corner of his eye, he could perceive Jeena sending the worker, and any other that may hang around, off with a nod. She went to sit closer to him, her many jewels chiming softly as she moved. She leaned her elbow on the balustrade, her umber eyes taking in the scene below._

_“Not approving your brother's choice of partners? I can assure you both Evonet and Leenh are very good at what they do.”_

_Not the kind of comment that would settle his burning jealousy, but she couldn't know that._

_“They're not good enough for him.”_

_It was his default answer for whomever tried to claim Thexan's affection: they're not good enough. The truth was, nobody was good enough, nobody ever would be, because either they wouldn't be worthy and they shouldn't even be looking at him, or they could be worthy and may take Thexan away from his own arms. And that simply couldn't happen._

_“My handsome prince, I'm starting to wonder what being in this galaxy could possibly be worthy of your brother in your eyes.”_

_None. It was as simple as that. There was none deserving enough to take Thexan away from him._

_“No one here that's certain.” Was his only voiced answer._ _  
_ _Jeena smiled, not offended in the least. He had yet to find anything that would shock or offend the woman._

_Below them, Arcann could see Thexan accepting a drink offered to him. He had his polite smile, the one he gave people to make them feel like they mattered, and that was a small comfort. Thexan's true smile was still for him and him alone._

_Arcann almost growled when one of the men took Thexan's lips in a kiss. Who did that whore think he was? His fingers dung in the balustrade, his hand itching to Force-throw him away from his brother._

_'You may stick your tongue down his throat, but you didn't get his first kiss,' jealous satisfaction pourred in at the thought, 'That was mine, not yours._ **_Mine_ ** _!'_

_That reminder alone however, wasn't enough to quench the burning feeling in his chest at seeing a woman run her hand on Thexan's clothed chest just as the man kept kissing him._

_“What if he falls for someone?” Jeena's voice cut in, managing to tear his gaze from the nauseating scene going on below._

_“What?” Arcann asked, the question taking him off guard._

_“What if your brother falls in love with someone? Worthy or unworthy. What happens then?”_

_The thought had never crossed Arcann's mind, not really. His heart was so taken by his twin, he forgot to think of the fact that Thexan's own heart could be swept away by someone else. Or perhaps his brain simply didn't want to consider such scenario and had immediately pushed it away. What if Thexan found love with someone? What would he do then? His very first instinct was to rage of course, but what if Thexan truly cared for that person? His anger was quickly tainted with despair; he couldn't harm anything or anyone Thexan loved, not if it caused his brother anguish. Izax, but he would hate whoever they may be, man or woman, he would hate them with passion. Yet, if that person made Thexan happy, he knew he would let it happen, because for all his jealousy, all his selfishness, he could not ruin whatever his brother shared with someone for his own benefit. There could never be any benefit in Thexan's misery. However, should that person hurt his brother in any way, Scyva had better have mercy on them because he would have none. Arcann tried to picture it, a life where Thexan had a significant other, and the thought alone was enough to get an uncomfortable lump to crawl it's way up his throat. Arcann wondered; would it be a man or a woman? Both had equal chances with his brother. They would get to hold him wherever and whenever they wished, uncaring of the public eye, they would be the one standing at his side, not Arcann. They would be the one to share his bed. He would have no excuse to invite himself in-between his brother's sheets to sleep close to him anymore. Thexan's loving gaze wouldn't be directed to him as much as before, he'd give his true smile to someone else. Another chilling thought came to mind: if it was a woman he fell for, would they have children? With only another person around, Arcann knew he could still claim a large part of Thexan's time to himself, even if he loathed to share such time with someone vying for his twin's affections, but children... Arcann could never beat that. Thexan could be unyielding with durasteel will, but there was too much love and kindness in him to be the distant and cold father Valkorion had been to them. He'd love his children and Arcann would as well, if only for the fact they would carry a part of Thexan in them. But Arcann would surely fade in the background, nothing more than 'just' Thexan's brother now. The thought alone, that someone might share Thexan's kisses, that they would touch him in ways Arcann himself never could was killing him. Would he share a bond with his future wife or husband? Would_ **_their_ ** _bond fade? Wrath and sorrow fought for dominance inside him, leaving him feeling numb._

_“Thexan isn't in love with anyone.” Arcann finally spoke, his voice rough and unfamiliar even to him._

_Down below, the redhead man was now straddling Thexan, hands framing his face as he kissed him. The woman with the pink hair was still there as well, her hand going lower than he'd like._

_“No one is immune to feelings, my handsome prince,” Jeena said as she idly played with her beautiful braided raven tresses, “Perhaps he has no feelings for anyone now, but he may, it's always a possibility. He may even be in love with someone right-”_

_“He's not in love with anyone!” Arcann snapped with more force._

_Thexan would tell him if he had feelings for anyone, that much he was sure of, which meant Arcann was safe from any hypothetical lovers for now. His nightmarish fantasy was still conditional and he didn't want to consider anything else for now._

_The look Jeena gave him wasn't quite pitying - he'd have lashed out if it was - but it was sad. Like she knew something he didn't and it dulled her usual joy for some reason._

_“Of course my Prince, you're right.” She said quietly as she looked away, her gaze turning back to the scene down below._

_The pleasure workers were still getting all over his brother making him fume with rage. If Arcann were fair and honest, he'd admit the willowy woman was quite comely with her almond shaped eyes and her intricately braided magenta hair, he'd admit that the man's freckled covered skin was enticing, his pale green eyes were rather attractive and his bright ginger hair very pretty. But Arcann was neither fair nor honest and certainly not with himself, so his ultimate verdict was that the woman looked far too bony, her hair colour was garish, as for the man, he was short and didn't have any form of muscles to speak of. That Arcann desired to shove him off and straddle Thexan's thighs himself, have his own mouth against his, was left unspoken inside his own mind._

_“Well, if it's any comfort, he doesn't seem to appreciate your choice of companionship either.” Jeena said, cutting through his murdering thoughts directed at her co-workers._

_“Don't be stupid,” he scoffed, “Thexan likes everyone.”_

_False, completely false, however Thexan was good at making everyone think he liked them, despite his own real feelings on the matter. Much unlike him who could never hide his distaste of another._

_“Then I may well be the exception to the rule, because some of the looks he gave me when he thought I wasn't paying attention...” A devilish grin bloomed on her lips, “You would think I had committed treason to the Empire. Perhaps he considers it treason, for me to lay with his fellow twin when I am undeserving of his attention?”_

_The idea sounded ridiculous to Arcann, Thexan never voiced any concern over his choice of partners, males or females, unlike himself, who became irritable whenever he witnessed his brother sharing intimacy with another. Then again, Thexan was nowhere as straightforward as he was, he may have asked several times before without Arcann noticing. His terrible mood only flared at the thought, because knowing Thexan, he was probably playing the 'bigger' brother, checking if his lesser half hadn't done something stupid again, like picking an inadvisable bed partner._

_An idea suddenly popped into his mind as his eyes remained stuck to the scene below. He couldn't be the one to bring Thexan pleasure, but he could try and steal a moment from him. Their bond let them feel each other's pain, physical and emotional, but the same could be said about better sensations. They used to do such thing when they were younger, more innocent, but it had stopped with them growing up and needing privacy for obvious reasons, limitations that had grown when Arcann realised his own feelings and became afraid of what Thexan might see in their bond. But that didn't mean it was no longer possible, he could go have a look, feel what Thexan felt, even see what he liked. Would he prefer a fast or slow kiss? Did he mind the occasional biting? Did he like both rough and soft depending on his mood?_

_Curiosity was too strong, and Arcann wasn't the kind to restrain himself, all he needed was to be discreet and not rouse Thexan... To try and go to the other side of the bond quietly was akin to tip-toeing through the Force, a delicate balance, but something he would do sometime to check on his twin when he was sick or sleeping, without bothering him. It didn't even cross his mind to breach the privacy of Thexan's personal thoughts, such an act of betrayal too terrible to even think of, but taking a sneak peek in what his brother felt at the moment was fair game. However when he got there, there was nothing special. A feeling of enjoyment, yes, appreciation of a good kiss, and pleasure in a small measure, but other than that, his brother seemed rather tranquil. He couldn't find passion or arousal, almost as if all his attention wasn't-_

_A sharp poke hit Arcann's mind, similar to a scolding slap on the wrist._

_'That wasn't very polite, brother.' Thexan's voice spoke in his mind sounding both amused and annoyed._

_Shame, embarrassment and guilt flooded Arcann all at once and he did his best to not let too much of it reach across the bond. In his recklessness and impatience, he hadn't taken the time to consider what he'd do if he were caught. A rather foolish move because the probability had been high from the start; Arcann hadn't broken in his brother's mind, he had only used their bond quietly, betting on Thexan being too busy to notice. Which he clearly wasn't._

_'Sorry...' Arcann said immediately._

_'Sorry you intruded or sorry I caught you?”_

_Arcann flushed, earning himself a questioning look from Jeena._

_'I didn't want to spy on you, I just...” Well, he had been spying, but he hadn't meant it to be malicious, 'I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't do it again.'_

_He started to pull away from the bond but to his surprise, Thexan held him back._

_'I'm neither hurt nor mad at you, Arcann,' his brother said, his voice soothing, all traces of teasing gone, 'I'm always glad to have you in my mind, I just don't understand why you felt the need to hide.'_

_Arcann was relieved to hear that, to know his impulsivity hadn't alienated his brother. Below them, he could see Thexan had stopped the kiss, his gaze now posed on some piece of art so he wouldn't look like he was spacing out while having a conversation with his twin. A rush of smug pride rushed through Arcann, the fact that he could capture all his brother's focus in a matter of seconds, while some whore wiggling on his laps and pushing his tongue in his mouth couldn't get a third of it, was truly intoxicating._

_'I...' he started, trying to justify his behaviour, 'I was just bored, don't mind me.'_ Do _, his mind wanted to scream,_ do mind me _,_ don't pay any more attention to them _._

_'Bored. Of course.' Thexan wasn't buying a word of it, 'What is it? I can feel you're troubled.'_

_I want you. I want you, I_ _want to run my hands over your body, over your face, I want to share your bed not only for sex, but for the rest of our lives, I don't want you to fall in love with anyone. Or better yet, fall in love with me like I fell in love with you. I want you, I love you. That's what troubles me._

_Arcann thought all of this but he didn't let a single word of it reach Thexan. He had only wanted to steal a moment from him, so he would know what Thexan felt when he kissed, what he'd like to do to someone or have done to him. His greedy heart had wanted material for it's little fantasies, but it had no words to voice it's feelings. Not that the place was right in any case._

_'I just... I think I'll be going, I'm not interested tonight.'_

_He was, but not in someone he could ever have. Arcann felt Thexan's concern, checking his state for any problem. Below them, Arcann could see him frown, sitting straighter on the couch and pushing the two pleasure workers around him slightly away._

_'You don't feel sick, what is it, did something happen?'_

_A smile tugged at Arcann's lips; Thexan could always feel when the slightest thing was off with him._

_'It's nothing-' He tried to reassure him only to be cut off._

_'Is it because of your prostitute? Did she do something wrong?'_

_The simple notion that Jeena would do anything that would upset him was laughable but Thexan sounded extremely serious, traces of anger tainting his words._

_'No, why would anything she does bother me? And she isn't_ my _prostitute!'_

_There was no answer from Thexan beyond a strong sense of annoyance he didn't get a chance to identify before his twin buried it out of his reach. Thexan was looking around now, knowing Arcann was close but he didn't have the reflex to look up._

_Arcann felt a sudden rush of embarrassment and pushed away from the balustrade, not wanting Thexan to understand his eyes had been glued to him for several minutes now. Jeena threw him an amused look, and Arcann found himself wondering how long she had been keeping him company in complete silence while he talked with his twin. But he should have been wary of the woman's devilish side. She grinned before leaning on the balustrade and waving her hand down, most certainly catching Thexan's attention._

_Soon enough, his brother was speaking again._

_'Are you on the first floor?' There was a tension in his voice Arcann couldn't understand the reason for, but he proceeded to grab Jeena's wrist and tear her away from the balustrade._

_“Damn it woman!” He cursed as giggles made her whole body shake._

_'Not anymore, I'm leaving, but that's alright, don't worry.' It wasn't alright but he truly didn't want Thexan to worry._

_Which was, of course, the best way to get Thexan to worry._

_'Wait, why are you going? What is it?'_

_'Nothing, Thexan, it's fine, I just,' he threw Jeena a glare as the woman kept laughing gleefully, 'I'm simply tired, I would rather get back to the palace now.'_

_Not a complete lie, because he was tired, he had worked himself past his limits today again, it was a habit of his. Coming to the pleasure house was supposed to_ relax _him and he had wound up more tense than when he came in. That coupled with the crushing embarrassment of Thexan catching him snooping where he shouldn't had only made his stress worst. Well, as long as his brother didn't know exactly why, everything should be fine._

_“Leaving so soon my handsome prince?” Jeena asked still chuckling, “I don't think I got the chance to get you out of these pants yet!”_

_She didn't know much about the Force, but she knew enough to be aware that whenever Arcann spaced for longer than usual, he was somehow speaking to his brother. She had learned not to ask about his 'absences'. That added with Thexan's reaction was easy to piece together_

_“I could strangle you!” He retorted as he got up to leave._

_“But you like me, so you won't!” She replied in a sing-song voice._

_Well, he did... to an extent. The urge to throttle her still came from time to time, but he never went through with it, which, he supposed, was a good definition of 'liking'. Not killing the person despite the fact that you want to because their death would be bothersome._

_Arcann left without another look below the balustrade, Jeena's happy laugh following him outside. Perhaps that was why he liked her presence, because she was so joyful. Not the mindless bliss so many people on Zakuul possessed, but some sort of optimism and positivity she seemed to radiate at all times. It was so at odds with the serious and solemn atmosphere he had grown in, her carefree attitude was quite fascinating. Maybe he had hoped he could leech some of her joy for himself. Arcann snorted: no such thing had happened. He wasn't like the rest of Zakuul, he had a duty, a destiny, a goal to work toward, he had to be a prince, a warrior. All else was secondary. Jeena may be a beautiful distraction, but that all she was: a distraction. From Valkorion, from Thexan. Arcann knew he wouldn't be the heir to the Eternal Throne, that was Thexan's destiny but he wanted to prove he was deserving of it just as his brother was. He was the son of the Immortal Emperor and he would prove his worth to the man. Thexan kept repeating he had nothing to prove, but Thexan didn't understand; their Father never pointed out every each one of his flaws even when he was certain he had done his best (Thexan was such a fast learner, any flaw he had was quickly fixed), their Father had never looked past him as though he didn't exist, bestowing a single word of recognition on another before leaving (Thexan didn't care for Valkorion's praise, but the man had acknowledged_ some _of what he did at the very least). He loved Thexan, hell, he was_ in _love with him but that was something his brother simply didn't understand: working, fighting for every inch of an approval that didn't come._

Your freedom will be the wars you wage, your birthright, the losses you suffer.

 _He would do whatever it took, go as far as he needed to, he would_ sacrifice _, but it would be worth it in the end. It had to._

_Arcann was so lost in his own musing, he was surprised by the arms that encircled him before relaxing in the familiar embrace._

_“I can literally feel your brain heating up.” Thexan said next to his ear, a smile in his voice, “What did I tell you about brooding alone in the moonlight?”_

_Arcann rolled his eyes._

_“I don't 'brood alone in the moonlight', I'm simply doing some thinking.”_

_“Never a good thing.”_

_His twin received a kick from his elbow in retaliation which prompted a laugh from him. However, Arcann quickly regretted his actions as it made Thexan's arms leave him._

_“You're not inside.” Arcann uselessly pointed out._

_Thexan raised an eyebrow at him._

_“Astute observation, dear brother.”_

_“It's just... You seemed in good company.” Surrounded by a bunch of unworthy sluts was more like it._

_Thexan merely shrugged._

_“So were you. You and your prostitute were upstairs weren't you?”_

_“Jeena.” He provided absent-mindedly._

_Thexan frowned, looking somewhat annoyed._

_“You know her name?”_

_“Shouldn't that make you happy?” Arcann retorted as they made their way to their shuttle, “You always say it's a problem that I don't remember anyone's name.”_

_“I guess...” Thexan muttered, “You see her a lot?”_

_“Not really, but she's good in bed.”_

_She truly was, that woman had some impressive tricks. It never kept Arcann from wondering what it would be like if it was Thexan that caressed his skin, but it was distracting and pleasurable enough to make him forget the outside world for a while._

_“She talks too much though,” Arcann added after a moment, “She's amusing, but far too annoying as well.”_

_Thexan's only answer was a quiet hum, but there seemed to be less tension in his frame now. Whatever in his answer had settled him, Arcann couldn't fathom._

_Soon enough, they had reached their shuttle._

_“Still doesn't explain why you left your own company.” He reminded._

_“I wasn't really in the mood.” Thexan simply answered and that could very well be the truth._

_From what Arcann had perceived of his feelings before he was detected, Thexan hadn't been overly passionate over the encounter. Arcann savoured the satisfaction that thought brought._

_The silence in the shuttle as they flew back to the palace was comfortable and familiar. There had never been an uncomfortable silence between them, not as far as he could remember. Arcann found his eyes glancing at Thexan's lips again and again during the short trip. He wanted to claim them, lick away any traces that redhead might have left behind, taste his twin for himself instead of imagining. The temptation of simply grabbing Thexan's face and locking their lips together was strong but he held back, boring his gaze on the urban landscape instead. Still, his eyes lingered for a few seconds more on Thexan's inviting lips._

_The palace was always so quiet at night, that's how Arcann preferred it; no Knights, no agitation, no Valkorion, just him and Thexan. They had reached their quarters now and Arcann knew he should probably get back to his own room but he kept hoping Thexan would ask him to stay so they may share a bed. He could ask of course, but he had already been strange enough this evening, he had no wish to add fuel to the fire by begging like child for his brother's embrace, no matter how strongly he desired it. He waited a bit longer, trying not to hover, but relented when he saw Thexan getting ready for bed without a word. He turned away with a sigh, heading for the door._

_“Where are you going?”_

_Arcann's hand was above the controls when Thexan spoke._

_“To bed...?” He answered, unsure where his brother's question came from._

_Thexan was surprised for a second before his cheeks darkened._

_“Oh.” He turned away, resuming putting on his night tunic but his movements were slower, “I... Sleep well then.”_

_Arcann frowned, stepping away from the door._

_“What is it?”_

_Thexan shook his head, still not looking at him._

_“I just... I thought you were staying for the night. But it's alright, you don't have t-”_

_“I can stay.” Arcann interrupted, hoping he didn't sound too eager. He tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest, the comfortable warmth that spread through his whole body, but it was hard to when a smile was fighting to reach his face. Thexan wanted him to stay, wanted him by his side as he slept. His heart skipped a beat. Was it giddiness? Izax, he needed to make sure his body stopped reacting as though he were some foolish boy full of hormones._

_Thexan stilled his movements._

_“If you don't mind.” He said carefully, turning his eyes back to Arcann at last._

_“Have I ever?”_

_A smile finally broke on Thexan's face and he playfully threw his twin a change of clothes. In the matter of seconds, all tension had evaporated from the room and all that remained was an everlasting sense of rightness. As he changed, Arcann realised it was all very... domestic, all this getting ready for bed together. The thought brought a flush to his cheeks, mostly because the idea actually_ pleased _him. He liked envisioning a life where Thexan and him would grow old together, with no one ever coming between them. Arcann shook his head, hoping to chase the thought away: it would never happen, if only because Thexan didn't return his feelings._

_Finally dressed for sleep -if you could call loose pants and a bare torso a sleeping outfit- Arcann put his clothes on a nearby chair before heading to the bed. Thexan was already under the sheets, his gaze locked on his brother. His eyes seemed darker and there was something... wanting in them._

_“Dozing off already?” Arcann teased, snapping his finger in front of him, effectively breaking his twin out of whatever spell he was under._

_For a second, Arcann thought he saw him blush, but the room was too dark to tell._

_“Well, it's your fault for taking so much time.” Thexan finally answered after a while, just as his twin settled next to him._

_Arcann wrapped his arms around him without really thinking about it, his body relaxing under Thexan's touch._

_He let out an appreciative sigh._

_“I'm here now.”_

_He was already feeling sleepy, his eyelids dropping as he felt his brother tug him even closer._

_“Yes,” Thexan whispered, “You are.”_

_Despite its rocky start, Arcann thought to himself that the evening had ended rather well._

_That of course, was before he awoke the next morning, limbs tangled with Thexan's, face buried in his neck, an embarrassing erection pressed in his brother's side, and his treacherous body lazily humping against him. Thankfully, Thexan remained blissfully asleep and Arcann was able to make a quick escape to the fresher._

_Yet it remained on the list of Arcann's cherished memory, filled with the knowledge that Thexan wanted him by his side, even if not in the same way Arcann wanted him._

 

_**_

 

Two days passed after that first night at the pleasure barge, and for some reason, people still wanted to talk to Arcann. He never gave his name, and they kept calling him 'the new guy' most of the time which was fine for now. He had already spotted the flaw in their security he would use to flee as soon as he was able. And that meant once he had a new arm, and a way off that planet. Help came from an unlikely source, when Adeja offered to make him a new arm. He was surprised, but the girl apparently had a talent for cybernetics and looked forward to the challenge. Arcann wasn't about to refuse, his physical autonomy was something he wanted back as soon as possible.

“Could you add a focus crystal in the mechanic?” Arcann asked as he looked over the supplies salvaged from his shuttle.

“I guess, would be tricky, but I can add it.” She was taking his measurements for his new prosthetic, “Do you have a focus crystal though? They aren't that easy to come by.”

It was thankfully part of what Kianta had been able to salvage. Using the Force with a prosthetic limb was harder, the feel of it all wrong, but having a focus crystal embedded in it made things a great deal easier.

“Where did you learn this?” He found himself asking. It may be a terrible idea to let her make his arm, but he did not possess a wide variety of options.

Adeja chuckled.

“Believe it or not, but as a pleasure slave, I have quite a bit of free time, and the Lady Boss let us learn things, so I learned cybernetics. Technology always fascinated me.”

He nodded without a word, letting her return  to her work. He hoped she would be done quickly.

Her two sisters also came to visit, as well as Kianta and Mafeesh. Their presence was strange but not completely unwelcome. He never really talked to them, but they had gathered in the room they provided him and most of the time he simply observed, listened to their conversation. It was... peaceful. No one here expected anything from him, good or bad, he did not feel under scrutiny at any moment which was rather new. He started to ask questions, he had to learn what happened during the time he was out.

And the truth was, nothing good.

“Well you probably know the emperor Arcann something disappeared after some big battle with the Alliance.”

“Heard something about it, yes.”Arcann answered non-committally.

This was how not involved he had been in the Core Worlds he realised, most people on non-major planets did not even know what he looked like. On Zakuul, anyone could identify him with a single look, but out there... He never made any broadcast, he never cared. All he had wanted was to built an Empire void of his Father, an empire worthy of Thexan, and anyone who stood in the way of that was enemy. Or at least they had been...? He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

“Well, apparently, his sister took back the torch right after him.” Mafeesh continued.

Vaylin? Arcann knew he shouldn't be surprised, of course his sister would take control of the throne. But his sister was much like him in the aspect that she never wanted to rule. She wanted to control.

“She kept demanding tribute from us, destroying anyone who challenges her... Pretty much the same as before though from what I heard she's less clinical than her brother, likes to be a bit barbaric.”

His sister always did have creativity. He remembered the wonderful wooden toys she made as a child, she loved to create then. Another time, almost another life.

“Strangely enough though, she declared her brother a traitor and has been hounding him and some rogue Knight for a while now. Her last giant assault was on Voss, I guess she was searching for them or something. Or maybe she just likes to blow things up, I don't know.”

Arcann stopped his movements for a second. Vaylin was... hunting _him_? He had know she hated mother, she made that fact clear often enough but he never thought...

 _“Why?”_ , he remembered her screamin, _“Why?!”_.

 _Did that make you hate me so much little sister_ , Arcann wondered, _do you believe I chose mother over you?_

He remembered the skytroopers and the Knights he had seen at the Voss shrine, the ones his mother had protected him from. They were sent for _them_ , by Vaylin. She wanted the both of them dead. He waited but no hate or anger came, just... sadness. He wished Vaylin had just come when Senya offered. Perhaps if the ship hadn't fallen apart... Even then he wasn't completely sure she'd have come, but there was always a chance. There may still be a chance, she was just angry right now, but if he could get to her, convince her...

“Hey, you still there?” Mafeesh asked tearing him from his thoughts.

“Yes,” Arcann said shaking his head, “I'm simply tired.”

There was no real agitation here, the days were marked by the streaming of clients that came and went, but otherwise nothing ever occurred. Arcann let himself relax, thought he could just spend the rest of his stay there under the radar, but he should have known better.

The day had started well, Adeja was making good progress on his arm from what she told him. He was impatient to retrain with both his arms, for now he only did some morning training in his room one handed. He didn't want to lose his edge, he knew he would need it sooner rather than later. Valkorion still had to be defeated.

The triplets were in his room talking while Adeja worked on his arm, as well as Mafeesh who read something on a datapad. Everything was relatively quiet until they heard some voices. Nothing too loud at first, then the commotion started to get bigger until it was enough to capture the attention of everyone in the room.

“What the hell is going on?” Celri asked.

Just as she said that, Kianta barged in.

“The Champion of the Great Hunt is here!”

“You're kidding us?!” Noeva exclaimed.

Kianta grabbed her hand, tugging her forward.

“I'm not, come and see!”

They all started to rush out of the room and Arcann hoped he would be forgotten in the excitation. He had no such luck.

“Come on, man,” Mafeesh said, dragging him outside by his arm, “You've been inside that room since you arrived.”

“I actually like it that way, and would much prefer to st-” But Arcann's protests were ignored and he was forcefully taken outside.

He would have rather have as little people as possible see him, but that was clearly not to be, despite the fact that he had no interest in seeing the “Champion of the Great Hunt”. Now that he thought about it, he was almost sure the title was ringing a bell...

Arcann had never walked the corridors of the place before. The floor was carpeted, muting all footsteps, the wall golden and far too shiny. They clearly weren't the only ones drawn to the arrival as several other people had found various spots to observe the scene down below.

There were two women downstairs, one was a Nikto, extremely tall, and Arcann was informed she was the Lady Boss they all answered to here. The other looked familiar, a Rattataki with a black leather trench-coat that clung to her frame and a Jawa on her shoulders-

Arcann's eyes widened.

Oh no, that was bad, that was really, really bad, that's why her title was familiar, she was one of those Darth Marr had assembled years ago and helped Quruka's rescue. He remembered her from Asylum, her shot had almost ruined his prosthetic. What her name was, he had no idea for he hardly cared. She did not house Valkorion's soul, she wasn't even Force-sensitive, which in his mind was the equivalent of writing her off as irrelevant. Thexan always said he had a bad tendency to overlook both people and details.

He was right. Arcann almost chuckled, this could be the title of his life: 'Thexan was right'.

“Daisth, the one above the law, or so the rumours say,” the Lady Boss said with a slight nod, “I never thought you would return to Hutta. People don't usually come back when they have elevated.”

The woman -Daisth, Arcann ought to remember it this time around- let out a loud laugh.

“Yeah, I ain't staying, that place is shit.”

From the little Arcann had seen, it truly was. Without the heady incense to cover up the smell, he soon realised the place stank.

“Not to mention,” the woman added, holding her hand out to the Jawa on her shoulder, “That I hate anything owned by a Hutt. I'm here for business, not pleasure.”

The Lady Boss shook her head.

“I don't know what we could possibly do to help the Alli-”

“Cut the banthashit will you?” The Jawa had put a holo of some kind in her hand, “It's a popular pleasure barge, which means it's also an information hub, and I, well, the Alliance really, need to find someone.”

Daisth had chosen the perfect moment to come, in the middle of the day, there were no clients, not even Cartel people, only those capable of providing answers. Everyone felt free to speak in presence of a prostitute, but most forgot the prostitute could actually remember what was being said.

There was a very low chance that Daisth was collecting informations on someone else. But Arcann was aware of the most likely scenario. His eyes darted around as he tried to spot the quickest escape route. He didn't have his arm yet, but he couldn't risk getting caught. However, every prostitute had come out to see what probably was the only distraction of the day, the whole place was packed, and Arcann couldn't spot a way through.

“Not so long ago, there was an emperor ruling Zakuul.”

“Heard it's an empress now.”

“True, they've been playing musical chairs lately, but that's not the point. The former emperor is on the run, he was last sighted on Voss, which means he could still very well be in this sector.”

People started whispering among themselves and Arcann desperately looked for an escape, but there was none. No door in sight, he was stuck between two of the triplet and Mafeesh behind him. He may be able to make a run for it once he was forced outside.

“I doubt we can help, we don't even know what he looks like.” The Lady Boss said, shrugging.

Daisth smirked, holding out the holo.

“Let me clear that up for you.”

It was strange, seeing a giant holo of himself here, with his mask back on, and his eye burning gold. It took barely a second before he felt Mafeesh's uneven gaze burn into his back, the triplets turning their heads toward him. He didn't meet any of these looks. There was no mistaking him. Arcann regretted not taking his lightsaber with him, but he still had the Force and he'd fight her, he would not be easily taken down. He would _not_ be an easy prey, not even as weakened as he was.

“I don't believe we have any information on that individual.”

The Lady Boss' voice was calm and measured, and Arcann questioned his hearing for a moment. The woman knew of him, went to see him when he was unconscious, unless she was completely blind, it was impossible she wouldn't have recognised him. No one in the hall was speaking except for her.

“Though you can be sure, that as long as it agrees with the Cartel, we can offer you any information you'd like.”

Daisth didn't look convinced.

“You're 100% sure no information concerning a runaway former emperor has reached you?”

The Nikto shook her head.

“None at all, I'm quite certain.”

Arcann could do nothing but stare: what was happening? Or rather, what wasn't happening? He was surprised when he felt someone tug him by the back of shirt.

“Come on, hurry!” Mafeesh whispered, dragging him away while the conversation continued below.

Soon enough they were back in the room and Arcann went to get his lightsaber immediately.

“Hey,” Mafeesh exclaimed, “You don't wanna start anything, trust me!”

Arcann ignored him, putting together the meagre possessions he had left.

“I need to get out.” He muttered.

“You can't, you don't even have your new arm yet!”

But Arcann didn't care, no matter how logical what Mafeesh was saying was. He didn't know why he hadn't been surrendered to the Alliance yet, but he didn't care to find out.

There was a hand on his shoulder, trying to turn him around and Arcann didn't think before drawing his lightsaber. Mafeesh had taken several steps back, his hands raised in surrender.

“Hey, take it easy, no one is trying to sell you out here. I'm trying to help.”

Arcann didn't lower his weapon. He couldn't do anything else now, with only one arm available. He knew that even if he got out, nothing would be fixed, he was just a cripple with no way off this planet and the Force could only get him so far.

“Why would you 'help'?”

He had met those people two days ago, why would they do anything for a fallen tyrant? No, it was a ruse, a trick, something he couldn't yet see.

“Because the Lady Boss is letting us.” Mafeesh answered calmly, uneven eyes never leaving his, his body barring the exit.

Arcann could kill him, would if he had to. Just a quick slash would do...

_Flashes of yellow, a slash, a phantom burn on his mid-section..._

His hand shook, and his grip on the lightsaber tightened to keep it steady. He wouldn't show an inch of weakness.

“Look, just put that down, you're safe here-”

“Safety is an illusion. You know who I am now, you have no reason-”

“We like you alright!” Mafeesh interrupted, starting to look angry himself, “I found you looking like shit out in the swamps and carried your sorry ass back here, I watched how you acted for the last days, we all did! And we found you alright, we're starting to like you! Here, that's why we're not throwing you to the sarlacc!”

It made no sense in Arcann's mind, no bloody sense.

“I've killed thousands-” he started.

“I've left you with the triplets the other day. You could have killed them with a wave of your hand and make a run for it, you could have killed Kianta, you could have killed us all, and used the resources available here, I'm sure you'd have managed something, but you didn't. You killed thousand before, what stopped you now?”

What indeed? He had wanted to, his instincts screamed at him to do it but he had resisted, calmed his feelings, controlled himself. Everything he hadn't been able to do six years ago when he struck down Thexan.

Arcann's hand lowered slowly, turning off the lightsaber. There was no word for the complete and utter feeling of loss that inhabited him. He was lost in the middle of a desert with miles of sand and nowhere to go. He didn't even know himself anymore.

Mafeesh came slowly up to him, tried to pry the lightsaber from his hand which he refused, stepping back.

“Alright, alright, you're keeping that.”

He would have added something, had Kianta and the triplets not burst in the room at this very moment.

“Quickly!” Kianta hissed, running to the wall.

To Arcann's surprise, she went for a holo art decorating the room and typed something. The holo art disappeared, letting them see the room next door. Kianta waved her hand in Arcann's direction,

“Come, the Lady Boss put her in this room for the night, you can listen!”

Arcann couldn't believe his eyes, both because they seemed to genuinely try to help him and because they had a device to spy in other rooms.

“Slaves are investment,” Noeva explained, “When we have clients known to get too rough, we put someone to watch them. Every room has a holo spy-cam.”

She turned to the others.

“And the Lady Boss said we had to meet up in her office!”

Everyone let out a groan. They had apparently been excited by the idea of listening in but they were all out soon enough.

Arcann almost jumped out of his skin when he felt Mafeesh' hand on his shoulder again.

“I'll be back later.”

Arcann wanted to yell at him that he didn't care, that he didn't need anyone, but he merely nodded numbly. He approached the spy-cam when he heard the door close.

The bounty hunter had let her Jawa companion down, and he (Was it a 'he'? Did they even  have gender?) was now rummaging around the room.

[Big boss, can Blizz pick up some of their techy thingies?]

Daisth just waved her hand.

“Sure, whatever you like, just don't get caught.”

The Jawa let out a happy shout before starting to take everything apart, while Daisth set up her holocom. Arcann wasn't surprised to see Quruka's image flicker to life not long after.

“ _Any leads?_ ” Was her greeting.

“None so far, I told you, this planet is trash.”

Oh, if they knew! He'd probably be handcuffed or in carbonite by now, on his way to Odessen.

“ _We have to find him before Vaylin does or we'll be scraping him off the floor._ ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I saw what that psycho can do.”

Arcann couldn't help the indignation he felt at that: the woman had just insulted his sister. Yes Vaylin hated him now and wanted him dead, but she was still his little sister. She always would be. Arcann took deep breath to calm his feelings: the Outlanders had every reason to see nothing but a madwoman in his sister, they didn't know her.

“How's Senya?” Daisth asked next with worry in her voice.

The question caught Arcann's attention right away. She was asking how Senya was, which meant she was still alive! His mother lived, she had not died to save him. A weight lifted off Arcann's chest and he felt more relieved than he had in years.

“ _No improvement, but she hasn't gotten worse, so that's a plus. You wouldn't believe how pissed Oggurobb is at not finding a way to wake her up yet. I know you care about Senya, we won't let her die on our watch._ ”

Was his mother in a coma? It seemed so, it wasn't reassuring, but at least she was alive and stable. It was more than he thought.

“He'll find something, that or Senya will wake on her own. She's a fighter.” There was a strange fondness in her voice as she spoke, but soon enough, her mood darkened, “I just hope we get her son back before that. Alive ideally. You sure Sheessa doesn't wanna kill him anymore?”

“ _Not since Valkorion said he wanted us to kill him. Now she wants him alive and well._ ”

Daisth chuckled.

“Whoah, thank the old son of Hutt for me when he pops up again!”

They laughed, and it was quite a strange thing to see. They were at _war_ , they were hunting him down and they were _laughing_? Arcann couldn't remember the last time he had laughed (he did, it was a decade ago, when he still had the other half of his soul).

The two women talked some more about meaningless things, such as how they were doing, they joked, and soon enough he turned off the holo spy-cam, letting the artwork reappear on the wall. Silence filled the room again and Arcann was alone with his thoughts once more.

What should he do now?

A part of him screamed for revenge, to lash out at the Outlander who defeated him and permitted Valkorion to live. But there was another part, a part that reminded him they let him live. Twice, when Quruka refused to finish him on his flagship and a second time when they agreed to let him and Senya go. On Voss they wanted him to come with them, they hadn't lied about his mother. Yet a part of him simply could not come to terms with this. There had to be a trick, there had to! He tried to kill them all so many times, almost succeeded, why would they ever spare him, why would they have mercy?

 _We could be allies_ , Quruka said during the battle of Odessen.

Impossible after all that occurred, not to mention Valkorion's soul lived in her, she could never be trusted.

Arcann's head hurt, he still had no idea where to start. He had to find Senya, obviously, destroy Valkorion once and for all, reason Vaylin...

Should, should, should... He was capable of nothing as he was, he was nothing.

The door opened, but it wasn't the faces he was used to that entered, it was the Nikto woman, the Lady Boss.

She stared at him without a word, before taking a sit in one of the plush armchair.

“I have to admit,” she started, her voice deep, “I never housed royalty before.”

Arcann didn't answer but he held her gaze, his back rigid and his chin raised high. Denying would be pointless now.

“Mafeesh did say you were quiet.” A rumbling came out of her mouth, it sounded like a chuckle, “I knew you'd be trouble when Kianta and him dragged you in, you looked too nice to be a simple drifter caught in a crash. But they're all slaves here, they don't get any choice, I wanted to let them have this.”

Arcann kept silent, and it didn't seem like the woman was expecting a reply.

“Maybe I'll regret lying to the Champion. I hope I don't, this merry little band seems to have adopted you, not to mention Adeja is overjoyed at the thought of making your new arm. Truly a sweet girl.”

Arcann didn't know where this was going, perhaps she only wanted to see what the man she was lying for was like. Silence fell and she remained, unmoving. She looked at him expectantly and he probed with the Force, trying to get a sense of her thoughts. She was waiting.

“You don't have a slave collar.” He remarked, his voice more quiet than he'd have liked.

It seemed he was right in his assumptions and she had indeed been waiting for him to say something.

“A Hutt's idea of a joke,” she answered, touching her bare neck, “I have no collar, they call me 'Lady Boss' as if I lead the slaves here, as if I had any authority. I have nicer quarters and nicer clothes, but the truth is, I'm still a slave. All dolled-up to look as if I'm better, but I remain a puppet and they still pull the strings. A title and some authority don't make a person free.”

Her words struck Arcann. He had no idea why, but they marked him, struck a cord in him that hadn't been struck in a long time.

Freedom.

It was easy to define for a slave, freedom was a price tag, a collar that had to be taken off, freedom awaited them once they broke their very real chains. But freedom was not always that clear-cut.

“You don't seem to know much about slaves.” The Lady Boss pointed out.

Arcann shrugged.

“There was no slavery on Zakuul.”

“Really? I thought the Hutts had settled an Eternal Championship, some kind of arena?”

Arcann had heard something about that but paid it no mind: the people liked it, it kept them happy, and as long as they didn't bother him, it was alright.

“Perhaps,” he said, “But those are gladiator.”

The woman laughed.

“And you think they're all willing?”

The question hadn't even crossed Arcann's mind.

“I don't think I cared.”

“Apathy then. A classic.”

She did not seem angry, but contemplative.

“The Hutts would probably punish me for indulging my prostitutes like that like that, but fuck them. This little band doesn't get to make choices all that often, I'll let them do this.” The Lady Boss rose from her chair, “The Champion said she was departing tomorrow, I would advise you not to leave the room until then.”

She left without adding anything else, and Arcann was alone with his thoughts once more. This was definitely not a plot, they were truly helping him.

Why? He wasn't sure.

Soon enough, the whole group was in the room again. Arcann expected questions, wary looks, but they all resumed their previous conversation as if nothing happened, he didn't participate any more than before, but minute after minute he relaxed, their chatter becoming a comforting background noise as he stared ahead lost in thoughts.

 

**

 

That night, Arcann dreamt he was fighting, but he had strings hanging on his limbs, hindering his movements and pulling him back. He was trying to fight his way to Thexan, he just had to cross the battlefield and he would reach him. But no matter how hard he fought, Arcann remained far away, Thexan becoming a speck in the distance. He tried to call but he had no voice and their bond was mute. Behind him, he felt a familiar presence, and in his ear, Valkorion's voice.

_“Come with me, son.”_

He woke up in cold sweat, his body trembling, his left arm burning. Except he didn't have a left arm anymore. He clenched his jaw, knowing that clawing at the stump in a desperate attempt to scratch away the pain would he useless. He would just have to wait.

Arcann didn't sleep again that night.

 

**

 

As predicted, Daisth and her Jawa companion had left the day after. It had been noticed right after that several pieces of technology were unassembled and parts of it stolen. There was a lot of cursing about 'thieving Jawas', but quickly enough life resumed its course. Adeja's work on his new arm was advancing well, and several tests they had conducted proved successful, the girl however, was still very clumsy when it came to connecting the sensory links. It was quite amusing to see her apologise profusely as if the pain inflicted was particularly terrible. Arcann's nerve endings hadn't liked it, but he had suffered far worse without flinching. He'd been surprised when she asked him if he felt any pain, and even more surprised when it bothered her that his answer was positive. Healers and doctors in Zakuul were clinical, professional to a fault with him. There voice was neutral when they asked if he felt pain, and there was no apology when they fixed it. Adeja actually seemed to care for reasons Arcann couldn't fathom.

Aside from more curious looks, he had gotten no remarks nor questions about who he was. The triplet spoke the most, asking mundane things like how old he was, what his favourite colour was or what was his favourite food.

“What do you mean you 'don't know'?” Celri exclaimed, looking shocked.

Arcann merely shrugged as he moved the fingers of his mechanic arm. Nerve control was coming along nicely.

“I've never been fed for enjoyment purpose, only necessity.”

The food him and Thexan had was mostly bland, made to meet the needs of his body, nothing more. He had memories of being a child and eating things with flavour, things he appreciated, but it was so long ago, he couldn't remember the names of any of it.

There were more question, always more, and they were always about random things. A part of Arcann did not want to let his guard down, they had already managed to make him answer things other than 'yes' or 'no', but more days passed and slowly but surely, Arcann found himself actually listening to their chatter. Learning things about them, their lives. He had never built any bond with someone who was not part of his family, he never had any... friend. Maybe Jeena? No, he didn't know the slightest thing about the woman. It was strange to listen to other people, even stranger to be interested in what they had to say. Arcann wasn't at first, but hearing them everyday probably influenced him. No one spoke to him like he was a prince, or even like he was someone who could kill them with a wave of his hand, they just... spoke. Like he was just another one of their friends. Not so long ago, it would have offended him, but now he found the experience resting. All eyes weren't settled on him, they didn't expect anything. Slowly, he found that he started to speak as well. Not much, just a comment escaping him from time to time, though when he was alone with one of them, he could find it in himself to talk more.

“It doesn't bother you?” Arcann asked despite himself on a day where they were testing the arm's articulations.

“What?” Adeja said as she picked a tool.

“That your twins spend so much time with other people.”

Celrin spent a great deal of time with Kuzeen and Noeva was often with Kianta, Adeja was the only one without a lover. Arcann did not even want to imagine what it could be like, it had been one of his greatest fear when Thexan lived. Though now, he wouldn't mind Thexan having a whole harem if it meant his brother was alive.

“I do feel more lonely sometimes, but they always make sure I'm never all alone; if Celri is with Kuzeen, Noeva is there, and vice-versa.”

Perks of being triplets it seemed, chances of ever being alone were greatly reduced. Still, even without the loneliness, Arcann couldn't stand the thought of anyone touching Thexan, kissing him...

“You okay?” Adeja asked, looking up from her work.

She looked so young, Arcann still had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that she was forced to have sex for a living.

“I'm fine.” Pinning after his dead brother and feeling jealousy for anyone who ever was intimate with him, was not 'fine' but he had no wish to explain, “You're alright with them having lovers?”

Adeja let out a full blown laugh, almost making Arcann want to blush for his question. Almost. He had more self-control than that.

“Why would that bother me? I do feel left behind from time to time, but I'm glad my sisters found some love, I'm glad to see them happy! If anything, I'd like to find someone to be in love with as well!”

Arcann simply nodded and didn't add anything. He didn't know what he expected, perhaps a validation, something that said he didn't truly desire his brother. But he never wanted a lover for himself, dreaded the day his twin would have one. The only one he wanted was Thexan.

Days went by and none spoke of who he was despite the fact that they all knew. The first to ever say something about it was Noeva.

“Is it true you've killed all those people?”

She had just brought the food, and she looked curious, as if she had nothing to fear from him. Arcann paused for a bit, surprised by her straightforwardness.

“Yes.”

Noeva cocked her head on the side, not looking terribly disturbed.

“Strange,” she mused, stealing food from his plate, “You don't look like a killer.”

Arcann snorted.

“Killers have specific faces now?”

She tsked.

“Not what I meant, it's just... you have sad eyes is all.”

“I don't.”

“You do.”

“I d-” Arcann stopped himself before falling into childish repartee, “Whatever you want to believe.”

She smiled knowingly.

“So, you bombed what? Six, five planets?”

Arcann didn't understand where she was going with this. He would have understood hate or anger, maybe fear, but this strange inquiry was beyond his comprehension.

“Five,” he corrected, “I sent the Eternal Fleet. And my sister.”

Who, for some reason, had made holos of the whole thing.

“Why?” Noeva asked.

“I wanted to know where the Alliance was hiding.”

“And did you learn anything?”

Arcann remembered how he had to wait for that droid to send him the coordinates before he could start his assault on Odessen.

“No.”

He was surprised when Noeva let out a whistle.

“Well pal, you suck.”

He was so stunned by the turn of the conversation, that Noeva had the time to steal more food and leave the room before he recovered.

What the hell just happened?

Arcann had no idea what she got from learning this, she did not treat him any different.

“Aren't you afraid?” He finally asked fruitless wondering.

Noeva shrugged.

“The same way I'm afraid of Mafeesh. I know he can snap my neck with one hand, I know you and your Force thing can kill me without touching me. But I don't think you will.”

“Why not?”

She smiled.

“Because I think you can be better than you are.”

Arcann didn't know where she got that idea, why she would even think that, who thinks that about a mass-murderer?

“What if I'm not?”

“You wouldn't ask that if you weren't.”

The sixteen years old managed to leave him speechless again. He simply could not understand her, or any of them really. Thexan was the one good at figuring people out, him? He'd rather not be around people at all.

As the construction of his arm progressed, he realised he hadn't worn his mask in a long time. Arcann couldn't put it on whenever he wanted, it was impossible with only one arm, and constantly asking someone to do it was more than his pride could bear. So he had to leave it off, and while he was very conscious of it the first few days, he realised he quickly got used to it. It was easy to forget the mask here, in this odd place that felt safe. He was no emperor here, nor was he a criminal, he was only Arcann. It went against all he had been taught, but 'Arcann' was enough here.

His left 'arm' still hurt every now and then, a burning sensation settling in his phantom limb. Arcann didn't mind the pain, he could last through it, he'd had worse, but the burning reminded him of Korriban, the sand in his clothes, the smell of blood and smoke and Thexan's hand on his arm. Arcann remembered the battle, how everything was going well, he felt like they had already won until he had felt a nudge in the Force, saw one of the Imperial trooper he had dispatched sprawled on the ground, looking as dead as all the others. But Arcann caught his.... her? He couldn't even tell their gender. Their hand was moving and he had realised too late it was moving to a detonator on their belt. The Prince of Zakuul, almost killed by a grunt's last attack. After some years, Arcann managed to find some grudging respect for that unknown soldier whose dying act was to try and take as many enemies with them as they could. They would have succeeded if not for Thexan. All the skytroopers had been destroyed, the Knights killed and Arcann would have died as well without his brother. He wished Thexan was here.

Sometimes, he wished too hard.

 

**

 

_Thexan's hand were on him, his lips on his neck, drawing moans out of him. Arcann tried to kiss him, but his twin always seemed to slip away._

_“I love you,” Thexan whispered in his ear, “I love you, Arcann.”_

_It came so naturally from his mouth, these words. Thexan has said he loved him many times, but this time, it had the meaning Arcann wanted. He loved him, desired him, wanted him. Thexan's hands felt perfect on his skin, caressing him, their chests touching. Arcann let himself feel the muscles on his arms, his back, enjoying the body he knew so well but could never touch the way he truly wished. He gasped when he felt a hint of teeth on his collarbone, hands clenching, fingers drawing lines on his brother's back..._

_Something in Arcann clicked._

_Hands._

_Fingers._

_Plural._

_He brought his left hand to his own face and only felt smooth skin underneath, no scarring, and when he pulled away, his left hand was just as he remembered it before._

_“It's not real.” Arcann whispered to himself and how he wished his voice wouldn't break._

_“What are you talking about?” Thexan asked softly, his eyes meeting his._

_He looked so alive, so true, Arcann let his left hand brush against his face. His memory hadn't faded in the last six years, every little detail was there. But it was still fake. Thexan never admitted to being in love with him, Thexan had_ **_never_ ** _been in love with him. Thexan was dead._

_Arcann's eyes were burning and there was a lump in his throat threatening to choke him._

_“It's a dream.” He managed to let past his lips._

_His dream Thexan cocked his head on the side, looking confused and Arcann couldn't help but smile, even though he knew it to be a lie. He leant forward, as if to kiss him, knowing what would happen._

 

**

 

Arcann's eyes opened and he was back in the room at the pleasure barge. He had a stump in place of a left arm and rough scars on his face and body. There was wetness on his face, but he ignored it, turning into the pillow instead.

And he screamed.

The soft fabric smothered his cries well enough, and Arcann kept screaming until his throat was raw and the urge to sob had abated.

Arcann didn't know how long it lasted, but it was still dark outside which told him the night was still young. It mattered not, he had no desire to sleep again. Nightmares were one thing; horror he could deal with, he was used to, but to be gifted such a sweet dream only to be returned to reality... That was more than Arcann could bear. He didn't want a dream Thexan that fitted his every desire, he wanted the real one, even if that one was not in love with him. But that Thexan was dead and he wasn't coming back. Because of him.

Arcann collapsed in the bathroom on the cold tile. He wanted to tear that dream out of his brain, destroy every trace of gentleness and tenderness of it. If he forgot what it felt like, maybe he wouldn't crave it.

The thought of grabbing Thexan's clothes crossed his mind but he pushed it away; anything reminding him of Thexan would be torture right now.

Arcann had no idea if a minute or an hour passed before Mafeesh came in.

“You look like shit.”

“Go away.” Arcann shot back not looking at him.

He had no desire to face anyone in that state, so weak, so pathetic.

Mafeesh was silent for a few seconds before exiting. Arcann thought he had been left alone until the Weequay returned with two glasses and a bottle of what looked like alcohol. He sat across from Arcann and handed him a glass.

“I don't want to drink.” He didn't feel like doing anything except waiting for the feeling of despair to go away.

Mafeesh pushed the glass in his hand anyway.

“Look, I won't play psychologist with you, because I don't know crap about that, but the state you're in? You need to forget something, and it's always better to have someone with you when you do that.”

Arcann just shook his head.

“I don't want to drink.”

“It's either get drunk or get laid, pick your team. Or we can cuddle but I don't think you and I reached that stage yet.”

Arcann scoffed at the notion; he had only ever cuddled with one man and he was gone forever.

“Thought so.” Mafeesh said as he poured himself a drink, “Feel like having sex?” He knocked it back.

Arcann couldn't help the grimace that came; sex was the last thing he had in mind right now.

“With whom I'd even do that?” He mumbled to himself.

“Hey,” Mafeesh exclaimed, “You're okay looking for a human, I'd do you for free.”

“I would rather not.”

“Thought so. Alcohol it is!”

He filled Arcann's glass to the brim before having another himself. The liquid didn't smell particularly nice and had a strange blueish colour. At another time, he would have questioned if it was safe to drink, but as it was, he didn't care. He swallowed the whole thing in one go.

And coughed hard.

“That,” Arcann said after his breathing returned, “Tastes disgusting.”

Mafeesh let out a booming laugh.

“You don't drink Huttese beer to get a good taste, you drink it to get wasted. The alcohol of the poor, the slaves, and the desperate. And don't worry about your mouth, if you can't feel a thing, it's actually a good sign.”

He proceeded to pour Arcann another drink, and after a second of hesitation, he belted down that one as well. The beer was an awful mix of bitter and acid, burning his throat and drowning out everything else. Exactly what he needed right now. He held out his now empty glass.

“That's the spirit!” Mafeesh shouted merrily, filling it again.

After the fifth, Arcann found that it didn't even burn that much anymore.

 

**

 

To say they were inebriated would be an understatement; they were completely and utterly wasted. Arcann felt slightly light headed and there was a strange buzz going through his whole body, but if anyone had asked, he'd have said he felt perfectly well. A part of his brain kept repeating he'd regret it come morning, but he ignored that.

“I'm telling you,” Mafeesh was saying, his speech slurred, “People don't give Rodians enough credit! Because damn, the things they can do to your dick with that mouth of theirs...!”

“I still don't wanna know.” Arcann said as he poured himself his... How much did he have again? No matter, Mafeesh had brought more than one bottle. Some of the beer spilled on the tile but he paid it no mind.

As to how the conversation ended up there, neither remembered anymore

“Your loss!” The Weequay commented after a gulp of alcohol, “They're pretty good kissers too, unconventional, but good... Best kissers for me would be... Devaronian! My first kiss was a Devaronian I think, first time too, not the worst client I had.”

They had a couple more drink and Mafeesh commented on the kissing ability of some other species while Arcann wondered while the tile felt so cold and why he felt so hot.

“What about you?” Mafeesh asked, tearing him from his drunken musing.

Arcann frowned, confused.

“What about me?”

“What was your first kiss?”

There were immediate flashes of smiles, sun, and clear blue eyes at the thought. Such a sweet memory, so precious.

He hadn't dared replay it in such a long time.

 

**

 

_The both of them were twelve, not quite children anymore, but not really adolescents yet. They never got much free time, but it was one of those time. They were laying in the fields of Zakuul, the sun warming them, a gentle breeze brushing against their shaved skulls. They had been watching some pointless movie on their portable holo. Arcann didn't remember what it was about, it did not truly matter, what mattered was that it wasn't a distraction they could indulge in that often. What Arcann did remember was that the two women kissing at the end had sparked his curiosity. Not the women, but the act of kissing itself._

_“Do you ever want to do it?” He asked his twin._

_The movie was over, and they were now resting against each other, basking in the sun._

_“What?” Thexan answered, untangling their limbs a bit so they could meet the other's eyes._

_“Kissing. On the mouth I mean.”_

_“Like the adults?”_

_Arcann hummed in response. Thexan shrugged._

_“I guess? It looks enjoyable and all that.”_

_It did. Everyone in the vids always looked so happy when they kissed, they had seen couples in real life do it as well, and they all looked like kissing on the mouth was a good thing. It definitely sounded more intimate, to have someone's mouth on your own._

_“I wouldn't want to kiss mother or Vaylin on the mouth, though.” Arcann said with a grimace._

_Thexan made a face in return._

_“Eww, no, that'd be gross!”_

_They both giggled at that, but as Arcann thought about it, he came to the conclusion that, while he wanted neither his mother or sister's mouth near his own, he would not mind Thexan's. His gaze fell on his twin lips; they were pink, probably like his own and looked soft. The idea that came to his mind didn't feel strange, after all, he was still curious about this whole kissing thing._

_“Would you like to try?”_

_“Try what?”_

_“Kissing.”_

_Thexan looked slightly surprised, but certainly not repulsed, which made Arcann feel a bit better, as he was afraid his brother would think him weird for asking. There had been no malice or hidden intent behind it, in his child's mind, there was no better person to have his first kiss with than his twin. He loved Thexan more than anything else in this galaxy, and they had their first everything together, why not their first kiss as well? Maybe because Thexan was a boy, or perhaps because he was his twin, but the idea of kissing this particular family member on the mouth wasn't gross at all. It was rather exciting._

_Thexan's cheeks had taken a rosy tint and there was a little mess of feelings stirring inside him that he kept from the bond. It didn't feel negative, but Arcann had no desire to make his twin uncomfortable, or force him into anything._

_“We d-don't have to!” He added, now feeling embarrassed by his own request, “It was just a silly idea-”_

_“I'd like to!” Thexan blurted out, “I mean, I wouldn't mind, it would be... interesting.”_

_Arcann was taken aback, but also pleased by his twin's reply. They both felt like a mess of emotions now, febrile and unsure where to start. Thexan grabbed both his hand in his and held them to his chest._

_'Breath in, breath out.' He whispered for both of them in the bond, joining their minds to help settle their emotions._

_It was almost magical, how the simple act easily appeased Arcann's racing heart. Under his palm, he felt Thexan's own heart, beating in tandem with his own. A twin heartbeat._

_Soon enough, the both of them were calmer and Thexan slowly got them in a sitting position, his hands never letting go of Arcann's._

_“So,” his brother started, sounding unsure, which was strange in itself, “How should we do this?”_

_“Just... like when we kiss on the cheeks or forehead I guess? But on the mouth.”_

_From what they'd seen, kissing hardly looked like quantum science, yet somehow, it now felt like some very complicated problem. Thexan leaned forward hesitantly, and Arcann closed his eyes, meeting him halfway._

_It was a very soft sensation, just a pressure of lips against lips, and in theory, it shouldn't have felt different from the simpler kisses they usually shared, but somehow it did. It was not world-changing but it felt more private, more intimate, and Arcann understood why kissing on the mouth wasn't something you did with just anyone. It was reserved for someone special. He smiled against his twin's mouth; Thexan was very special to him, so that made sense._

_'Good?' His brother asked, though from his smile and the peaceful feeling of happiness from the bond, he could already tell._

_Arcann pulled back enough that he could look him in the eyes._

_“Good.” He tried to fidget but his hand were still securely held by Thexan, “Do you think we could do it again?”_

_Thexan nodded eagerly._

_“Of course!”_

_And they shared another kiss, just as innocent as the first, they were nothing but children trying out something new after all. Thexan playfully caught his lower lip between his teeth and pulled a little, making the both of them laugh._

_“It's fun, I like it.”Arcann declared, satisfied, as he leaned on his brother, resting his head on his shoulder._

_“Yes, me too.” Thexan answered as he wrapped an arm around his waist and gave the top of his head a peck._

_And for a time, it was something they could enjoy. They would kiss every night before sleep, when one was hurt or scared, they had easily added it to their vast panel of affectionate gestures they only kept between them. But reality caught up soon enough._

_It was during one of their class, where they were taught about their duties and their image to the people, what would be expected of them. Obviously, marriage came up, but the notion was still abstract enough for them._

_Arcann asked if he could marry Thexan. It seemed such a logical conclusion in his mind; marriage was tying oneself to another, and he had no wish to ever be with another but his twin. He didn't want to be bound to anyone else._

_Arcann never forgot the look of horror on their teacher's face, how he quickly corrected him, saying that a sibling and a spouse were two very distinct things, that the relationship was not the same at all. He couldn't recall the whole tirade, but words like 'sin', and 'abomination' stuck out. He couldn't quite remember ever feeling so ashamed of himself before. Ashamed he had asked Thexan to kiss his mouth when it was such a wrong thing to do, ashamed he'd probably ask again if he could re-do it knowing what he did now, and ashamed it did not make him want to kiss Thexan any less. It was affection, they were showing their love, how could it be wrong?_

_But the disgust on their teacher's face told him it was worst than wrong, it was sick. At the end of their lessons, both of them were quiet, nothing but a mess of emotions_

_“So... we... we probably shouldn't do the kissing thing anymore I guess.” Thexan said after a time, sounding embarrassed._

_Arcann didn't dare meet his gaze, nor did he trust his voice and nodded silently. He felt Thexan's hands on his face, raising it to meet his eyes._

_'Hey, it's alright,' he said in their bond, his tone as gentle and loving as before, 'We're still brothers, twins, nothing will pull us apart!'_

_He bumped their foreheads together, and Arcann let himself forget his worries. It was just a mistake after all, no harm, no foul. He still thought kissing Thexan was nice, but that didn't matter because it was wrong, shouldn't have even asked in the first place, and his brother was probably grossed out by it now, so it no longer mattered. So he pushed it away, ignored it, even forgot about it. It hadn't meant anything, they were just children experimenting. It was only when hormones brought it back that he truly understood, and by that time there was no going back._

_Arcann wasn't sure there ever was._

 

**

 

“Hey, you still with me?”

Mafeesh's voice pulled him back to the bathroom. It almost felt like returning to another universe.

“Yes,” He said quietly, “Yes I am.”

The man patted his knee and it felt like an anchor to reality. He was here and now with that man who decided to waste, what was probably one of his rare evening off, to  get completely drunk with him. So he wouldn't be alone.

He rather liked that. Not being alone, knowing there'd be someone with him.

It was a nice feeling.

 

**

 

“So, can you move it? Is it alright?”

Adeja looked both wary and excited; this was her work after all. Arcann had been doubtful and first, and if he had more options, she would have likely not been his first choice, but he had to admit she did a great job. How she procured good material for the prosthetic was beyond him, but from what she said, she had gained the fondness of some Ugnaught scavengers, who were also the ones who taught her all she knew. She had also well integrated the focus crystal to the whole thing and he could feel the Force flow easily.

Arcann clenched the fingers of his new prosthetic then opened it before flexing the articulations. Everything was going well, but there was only one true test to be really sure. He grabbed his lightsaber and proceeded to do one of his usual routine. He had to do one-handed for so long, it seemed strange to have both arms again. The weight was odd, but soon enough, it felt like second nature once more.

The real surprise was the applause at the end of his routine.

“That was incredible!” Celri exclaimed.

“It's like you're dancing with the weapon or something!” Noeva added.

Everyone seemed impressed by what was only a simple routine. Arcann felt puzzled but also... pleased? Praise wasn't something he was used to have, and he had no idea how to respond to it.

He had no idea how to respond to any of those people.

They had no reason to do any of what they did but they had, and with the passing days, Arcann had gotten used to them. He would even go as far as to say a part of him cared for them. It wasn't something he was used to truly, to know people, know their lives and have interest in what happened to them. The feelings were alien... but not entirely unwelcome.

Arcann took a deep breath; what he was about to do was particularly hard, not something he was used to, but after all they had done for him, the etiquette he'd be taught informed him it would be worse than rude not to. He made sure his back was rigid and his head held high before he spoke.

“I thank you for the assistance you have provided me.”

Here, it was out. Thanking others wasn't natural for him, he wasn't supposed to need help, he was supposed to be better than that. However the last months had proved him he wasn't.

The room had quieted down as if they somehow knew it wasn't normal for him to be grateful. Mafeesh smiled, and it was warm and friendly.

“You're welcome, pal.”

And all resumed as usual.

 

**

 

Days were passing faster now, he no longer felt in limbo. With his both arms, he could put on his mask whenever he wanted. He didn't. His face was a familiar sight again and he no longer hated his voice. It wasn't perfect but it felt... better. He took the time to caress his covered bond every now and then. It was muted and he knew the pain that awaited if he removed the protection, but he couldn't help the need to be close to it in some way. He felt like a widow watching holos of their dead spouse. In a way that's what he was.

Arcann knew he would leave soon. He had too. Had to find a way to get to Vaylin, return to his mother, kill his Father once and for all. But that couldn't be accomplished here. Amusing, how he had found a safe place in a pleasure barge on Hutta. The simple truth was that most of what he believed had now been turned upside down.

_We could be allies._

Arcann hoped they still could. Joining the Alliance seemed like the most logical choice, to stop Vaylin, and kill his Father. Arcann had thought about the throne, but his desire for it had deflated; he had never truly desired the throne. He had wanted to build an Empire worthy of his brother, an Empire void of Valkorion, where him and his sister were finally free. He wanted Thexan's death to mean something. But all he did was killing and tyranny.

_You've just been killing more, there's a difference._

Arcann had no place on the throne, never had, that was for Thexan, but he ripped this chance from him. Thexan could make others believe in him, love him, he could lead them to victory.

Like the Commander.

Arcann remembered that fateful moment in the throne room where Valkorion had offered her his power, how she refused, and even then he had been impressed, because he had only ever seen his father be worshipped by others. To see someone, a prisoner in chains, stand up to him, insult him, call him a monster, a tyrant, a _world-devourer_... It was novel to him. Quruka had proudly met his gaze as he raised his lightsaber, yet he had seen fear in her amber eyes. She was afraid, but unwilling to flinch in the face of her would-be executioner. He'd almost felt bad when he ordered the Knights to freeze her in carbonite. Almost. Arcann hadn't intended to kill her then, he wanted to find a way to get her rid of his father first. Then perhaps he could have converted her to his cause, have a Knight that wouldn't sing the praises of Valkorion. He'd seen the reports of her accomplishments, knew she was a skilled fighter and it had sounded like a sound strategy. That is, until she escaped of course.

But despite it all, Quruka showed him mercy. He stole five years of her life, almost killed her several times, tried to destroy all she had but still, she held back from striking him down, even when he was at her mercy, and the others had followed. Perhaps that was what Zakuul needed after all this war and all this blood; a gentler hand, one that was held out, not raised like a fist.

Maybe Arcann could even have a part in it, help create instead of destroying. All the people he had killed were necessary sacrifices at the time, but now he had failed and their death was wasted but their blood remained in his hands. Oh, how easy and simple it was, to watch little dots on a map and order the fleets to bombard them. Just press a few buttons and it was done.

Except the dots were planets, full of people who never asked for any of this. And in the end, he had killed them for nothing but dust and ash.

Arcann knew there was nothing he could ever do that would fix that. But perhaps it didn't have to be his legacy. Perhaps he could still accomplish more than mindless slaughter. Perhaps he could do what he had dreamed of since he was a child and accomplish great thing.

And maybe he'd one day look in the mirror and be at peace with what he saw.

 

**

 

(And maybe, just maybe, Thexan would be proud too)

 

**

 

Arcann hadn't planned tell anyone he was leaving, he only intended to leave most of the credits chips behind, and keep only what he needed to travel. Tricking whomever he met into ignoring him was easy, all the careful early plans of evasion useful after all, and he was almost out when he realised they had been waiting for him.

“It's not nice to leave without saying goodbye.” Mafeesh said with a smile

“How did you-”

“I caught you packing,” Kianta answered, “Thought we'd give you a little farewell party.”

Arcann couldn't help but stare at them again; he knew now they had helped him because they wanted to, because they had taken a liking in him for some reason. Because they were slaves, and this was one of the rare choice they had a chance to make.

Arcann knew he'd return there someday, if only to take these collars of their neck. That was the least he could do.

“You have helped me though nothing forced you to, and I am grateful for that.” he said, keeping his voice neutral.

He was surprised to receive one of Mafeesh's massive hugs.

“I'm glad we found you, you definitely broke the monotony here.” He pulled back, “Don't get killed, would be a shame.”

Arcann nodded wordlessly, still stunned from the hug, and without any idea on what he should answer to that.

They all said their goodbye differently, and Arcann couldn't respond to any of them. He knew the formal way of doing it, but when the people seemed to care? He had no idea how this was supposed to go.

“Farewell.” He said eventually.

Like all else here, it seemed to be enough. It was something he had a hard time getting used to with them: all he had was enough, and no more was needed.

Arcann walked away without another word, and it wasn't long before they were gone from view and he lost himself in the dirty maze of the city. He had all that mattered with him, his lightsaber by his side, Thexan's clothes safely wrapped away in his bag. And his mask. He still hadn't put it on.

Arcann looked at it for a long time.

That simple piece of metal meant a lot, it had been his protection from the world, a warning to his enemy, it was meant to intimidate, hide any sign of humanity. Staring at it now, it only reminded Arcann of some monster's carapace. He wasn't the man who almost died on the sands of Korriban, nor was he the one ready to sacrifice everything for a single goal. Who he was now, Arcann wasn't sure, but that's something he could figure out later.

He threw the mask away, hearing the noise it made as it bounced on the ground. Let the scavengers have it, Arcann had no use for it anymore. This, was a new beginning.

His new beginning.

 

**

 

(“You didn't tell him about the rumour we started?”

“No need to bother him with that.”

“Nothing better than a pleasure barge to spread false rumours.”

“At least we know the Alliance won't have solid intel on him anytime soon”

The five slaves laughed and walked away.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm glad you've read this to the end! I'd love if you left a comment or a kudo or both, but in any case, thank you for reading!  
> (It's not the end, Thexan will come back. No way i'm letting him be dead.)


End file.
